Misguided Justice
by glittergoddess13
Summary: A murder trial renews Sam's law interest. Dean faces being judged. As the brothers are at odds with each other, a vengeful killer is offing heads & might separate them forever. LimpSam LimpDean ProtectiveSam Brolove Brofighting MouthyDean HurtDean HurtSam
1. Don't lose your head

**Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this one. As always, the only thing I can say I own is the random ideas in my head. Any reviews, comments, or suggestions are always welcomed. **

** x-x-x-x-****x-x-x-x-****x-x**

_**Misguided Justice**_

**x-****x-x-x-x-****x-x-x-x-x**_**  
**_

Sounds of springtime birds sang from the sprigs of the sunlit trees as they were drawn to the sweet apple blossoms lingering in the air. Spindly, yet muscular legs stretched out from a wooden bench upon the burgeoning plush grass. Sam Winchester had closed his eyes, soaking in the sweetness of the moment. The idyllic scene outside the Shafter County Courthouse could best be described as postcard perfect.His body held in perfect stillness, feeling the warmth of the springtime sun. It wasn't often that Sam had moments like these- time to be alone-time to reflect. Not that he didn't love his brother, but a 24/7 relationship with anyone could be taxing upon your peace of mind. The intoxicating fresh smell wafted to his senses again, the spring zephyr reminding him of Jess. Often when he thought of her, his mind filled with only one lasting image, the most detestable one. Today, he remembered her with a smile. It seemed as if her sweet scent was providing him with a much-needed relaxation. Abandoning himself in the Nirvana moment, he sighed knowing in a few moments he would rejoin his brother in the hallowed halls of justice. The mere thought of where the brothers had ended up was enough to make an ordinary man panic. The Winchester's, however, were far from normal. It seemed that at every turn weirdness followed them like a lost puppy looking for its master.

Sam had to admit, dipping his feet into the realm of Justice once more had created a longing for his past life. Getting lost in the world of legal jargon, cross-examination, and charges, was pure unabashed utopian pleasure. Over the past few days, Dean had donned him Super Uber Law Geek at least twice. He just wished it was for better circumstances.

His brother on the other hand was having one hell of a time. Not that Sam blamed him, but the Kentucky courtroom was the last place Dean Winchester wanted to be. It had been a week of pure torture for Dean. It panged Sam to see his brother being treated as if he were less than human. If universal bad luck could align itself against Dean anymore, his brother would crack. As it was, Sam was impressed that Dean tried to hold himself together. His brother was the proverbial fish out of water swimming up the holy shit hellstream. Dean's normal self was see-through faded.

Inhaling in another sweet breath of the apple blossom fragrance, Sam had renewed himself to witness the wheels of justice turning. Today was the first time in a week that the Winchester's had the opportunity to set things right. "Okay, Dean. It's time to set this off." Sam pondered that it better work out today or his brother was going to climb the walls. If this dragged out longer, his brother was going to throw punches.

Jaunting up the courthouse steps, Sam exhaled preparing to face the great unknown. As he walked through the courthouse doors with a hunter's anticipation, Sam was surprised to see his acquaintance, Ron Potter, waiting outside the doors. Ron has never been a good friend of Sam, but they had met during Sam's first semester at StanfordIn fact, Ron was on his way up the legal ladder, when Sam was still adjusting to his first year of normal life. Ron sucked down the last bits of cold coffee. Catching the courthouse janitor walking to the packed courtroom, Ron handed the working-class stiff his empty cup. Sam was sure he heard the janitor growl at Ron's audacity. The grumble didn't even acknowledge on Ron's "need to respond" meter. Instead, his focus was squarely on Sam.

"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?! He knows he's not allowed in the courtroom!"

"Ron, the entire county wants to see this trial. You can't blame the onlookers."

"Still, it's nice when people know their place!" The phrase was not said for Sam's benefit, but for the janitors, who was lurking and waiting for Sam and Ron to leave so he could access the courtroom. It was Ron's way of letting the janitor know his place and that he was being watched.

"Anyway, I was starting to think you couldn't handle seeing this through. Has it got your lawyer juices flowing again?"

"I wouldn't give up. I know he is innocent….and this is important to me. I just hope all the effort makes a difference." Sam ignored the last question, afraid to admit he did miss it.

"Come on Sam, we have one of the best on our side."

Sam knew that. He had watched Martin Masters, Attorney at Law, talk a blue streak around the prosecutors. Ron patted Sam on the back, nudging him into the crowded courtroom. As soon as the two legal eagles entered, the janitor adjusted his ball cap and snuck in right behind them. Squeezing a place in the back, the man blended in as he gave Sam and Ron wide girth.

Sam and Ron quickly found their seats in the packed and overflowing courtroom. Of course, they didn't have to fight for their seats having special privileges by their association of the defense team. Quickly, finding their seats in the gallery directly behind the defense tableSam's muscles tensed waiting for the finality of this event. He and Dean had waited for this moment. They were about to find if it paid off. Dean was always taking risks, but it was Sam who got him into this courthouse mess.

The defendant didn't turn to acknowledge their presence. Instead, he ran his hand through his short cropped hair. It was obvious he was trying to read the jurors, hoping they would somehow see he was an innocent man. He shifted uncomfortably in his dress suit. Obviously unaccustomed to donning such get up, he felt as if the tie was choking the breath from him. The intensified stress of watching his life hang in the balance had taxed an already world weary man.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but before his lips could form words, the bailiff called the court in session.

"All rise. The court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Thomas Jordan presiding."

A formidable but kindly looking gentleman maneuvered his portly girth to judge's chair. "Please be seated."

The sardine courthouse took several moments to find their seat again, much to the dismay of the defendant as each excruciating second felt as if a hundred years might pass. However, the judge patiently waited until all members of the gallery had quieted. Even after the room was silent, a spark of electrified hostile energy still lingered in the abundantly filled courtroom.

"Has the jury reached a verdict," rolled from the jowls of the calm judge.

"We have your honor." The foreman responded promptly.

"Will the defendant please rise." The defense table stood in a strange sickening unison. Sam found himself scooting to the very edge of his chair waiting for the climax of the moment. The fact that he knew in a truthful righteous world over the verdict would be not guilty, but sometimes it was hard to sway popular opinion to the side of truth.

"How do the jurors find on the charges of murder in the first degree?"

"We find the defendant: Not Guilty, your honor."

The courtroom erected in screams of celebration and pandemonium. As relieved as Sam was about the verdict, he knew this was far from over. The mob like mentality had taken dominance over the gallery. Neighbors, friends, and the curious began screaming among themselves. Some debated the correctness of guilt or innocence, the travesties of justice, or just screamed murderer. The victim's family was held aghast that person they held responsible for the death of their daughter was not going to be punished. The victim's sister, no more than 10 or 11, looked dejected as she had lost her big sister all over again. Sam knew fear of losing his brother was always presence in his mind, but he thought it best that his group leave now before things escalated to a degree that resulted in more harm and destruction. That's when the little sister lost what composure she had and hurled chunks upon the courtroom floor.

"Bailiff cleared his courtroom!" The judge banged on the gavel and a steady rhythm like machine-gun fire. The bailiffs started ushering the crowd out the door, but the masses would not have any part of calm.

It was too late. Grieving the loss of his love one, the murder victim's father threw the first punch at Martin. As the defense counselor's body reacted in a back from the blow, the entire sparked into lawlessness. It was as if the entire courtroom filled with blood lust. Another punch was thrown in the gallery, followed by another, followed by another, until complete anarchy gripped the courtroom. Reacting more like wild animals than humans, the lonely bailiff couldn't even negligibly keep them in line. More punches, jabs, shoves, kicks, groans, screams, and bitter words echoed within the teeming room. In the far back someone has resorted to throwing a chair, which promptly shattered upon the wall. Grabbing Sam's arm Ron guided him to follow.

"Come on, Sam! Out through the judge's chamber!" Panic filled Sam as he couldn't see Dean. Even though it was futile for Sam to scream above the other screaming masses, he had to try. "Dean!"

There wasn't time to call his brother a second time. Ron was pressing Sam on towards an escape door. Martin was quickly gathering his charge and guiding him to the same area. As Martin and Ron had pushed both of their rescues into the judge's chamber doors, the cries of belligerent echoed as the door closed.

"Keep going," Ron demanded. "We have to get him out of here. They are out for his blood." The judge's door broke in before they crossed the ten feet to the hallway exit. The irascible brutish mobs busted through. With Ron and Martin acting as buffers, the legal duo nudged the two men to the secondary door.

"Come on. Let's get out of here."

As the two men raced into the courthouse corridor, the rioters had already made their way into the same hallway. Sam found himself yelling for his brother yet again, alerting him that danger was probably closer than they expected. "Dean!"

Sam still followed and watched the suit jacket flap as a corner was negotiated. He had little choice, but to follow. There was not much he could do to hold back the crowd anyway. Glancing only briefly back at maddened crowd, Sam turned the corner without looking.

A granite like blow walloped into Sam's chest, pushing Sam tit the marbled floor. Sam's body landed with a thwack upon his bottom. The harshness of the blow stole Sam's breath. Sam's upper torso forced a seat position on the floor as he felt the bloodthirsty lot screech pass him. "NO! STOP!"

Suddenly, the crowd lurched to a stop and the area filled with shrieks of terror. Sam didn't have enough time to spring to his feet before the head of his companion rolled off its torso. The liberated severed head rolled and planted face down between Sam's legs. Horror caused Sam to scoot back a few inches in alarm. "No….No….No!"

The headless torso lunged forward with a thud. Writing in blood appeared over the headless man as the crowd fled in panic. "MET HIS" scrawled next to the newly made bloody mess.


	2. Harder to Breathe

The bloody head brushed up against Sam's dress pants, leaving a lingering stain upon the inner flank of his leg. Sam scooted back as the blood matted short hair flopped against his knee, wobbling back and forth face down on the floor. His chest tightened from the impact upon his sternum, stilling his ability to breathe or move without painstaking effort. Truth be told, his abhorrence for the death he just witnessed stuck in his gullet just as much as his injury. With each passing moment, it felt as if the pressure in his chest was squeezing him like an empty can slowly being crushed for recycling. He flinched as if his airway was being crushed close as his body was captive to an ungodly chill. His head flooded with disorientation from his burning seeking air and the guilt from the grotesque sight before him.

His legs pumped him back several inches, but the head rolled against his ankle. The total shock wouldn't let his body scamper away fast enough. Just when Sam thought this moment would last forever, his underarms were gripped from behind. Someone rested his torso against them, pulling Sam to his haunches. Arms locked around him, Sam was pulled to his feet. Sam's legs buckled beneath him as he had lost the power to control his limbs. The head lobbed to the side and started at him with murky blue fixed eyes.

"Come on, come on. Can you walk?" The voice said urgently.

Still stunned, Sam barely registered the man's words or the fleeing panicked crowd. He was unable to look away at beheaded corpse. His mind whirled with guilt of failure and his blind disgust of having to see that. His voice felt clogged in the pipe of his throat. His body felt an unbearable sting in his chest cutting off oxygen to his body. The chills in his body froze him in shakes. He felt limp, but his arms and legs took direction from his rescuer's pull.

The gruesome scene grew smaller and more distant as his large frame was maneuvered down the hallway. Although Sam's ability to struggle was as fleeting as lightning, his liberator's determination was a wall of iron. His feet dragged heavily. Every so often, a black scuff mark transferred to the floor. Sam collapsed his energy into a single is one breathing, allowing the good samaritan to puppet his body. Sam's head fell upon the man's name tag. Sam could not even distinguish a lingering scent of bleach upon the man's uniform. His senses seemed to have abandoned him. The man battled to jerk Sam's titan frame out the automatic courthouse doors. "Come on.. Are you okay. What hit you!??"

Sam didn't answer the voice, but the voice's owner swung him around and flopped him upon the step. Grabbing his shoulders the man shook Sam. "Okay, focus on me. Come on. Are you hurt?!"

The constriction in his chest felt like a death wind, decaying his senses and making him numb. Sam transfixed eyes glazed as his true self was hidden behind a catatonic mask. His trance only broken when a hand grasped his chin. "Look at me. Are you okay!" When Sam locked eyes with the form in front of him, his breath came in a gasp.

"Okay, just breathe. Take it easy. It's all over! Where were you hit"

"I failed. He's dead because of me."

"No, look at me. This is not your fault. What hit you? I saw you go down. There was no way to protect anyone with that mass hysteria"

Sam nerves were on overdrive. The sight alone would have scared an ordinary man, but something else had affected him. The blow was not ordinary and had such obscene power behind it that Sam felt in his bones. The pressure building made it harder to breathe. The man squeezed his chin and shook lightly.

"I'm here. Look at me."

The fuzzy image form came into sharper focus and the lines of the blue janitorial uniform came into focus, then the his vision drifted to the concern face. Suddenly, Sam snapped back from the he mourned the appalling loss. Although his mind return to him, the vice in his chest squeeze tighter and the cold that encase his skin caused shivers.

"Dean "

"Yeah, I got you."

"I looked..for you. …Paul Winston….he's dead"

"I know. I tried to get to you and the defense team, but with your jackass friend, I had to keep a low profile."

"I failed. That man….he died…."

"When I saw that hea…"

"Shh… You went down hard."

"I swear Dean….all could think…what if…that …..you."

"I'm freaking indestructible."

"I failed him…He was innocent…and I let him….failed him….I should have….

"WE failed, Sammy! Where are you hurt?"

Sam took a deep uneasy raspy breath. "Cold……….uh…Chest...feels tight."

"Okay, just take it easy for a second." Dean unbuttoned the first few buttons in Sam's dress shirt. A scarlet handprint was apparent across Sam's breast bone. "Okay, whatever hit you, smacked you hard." The otherworldly hand print filled Dean with apprehension. The graceful handprint made him wonder if they were dealing with the spirit of a child or woman, but the brute force to create that mark would have to be taken the power of three muscle builders. Sam lurched as his breath stopped in his chest. "Okay, look at me. How bad are you hurting."

"I'm….fine….ugh." He sucked in a forced breath.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital."

"No, too…. many questions. This…. risky enough for you."

"Sammy, this looks bad."

"I'm… okay." Sam's lungs struggled to suck in air. "Just…knocked……..wind…ou…"

"Yeah, that's why you sound like a three pack a day smoker."

Before Sam could respond, he felt light headed and thick. "Dean...that man...I should have saved him."

"Alright Bucko, before you go out on me, put your head between your legs and breathe."

"What good…..is……that…… going….. to do."

"Works in the movies."

"D…ean"

"Just do it, Wheezie" Not allowing Sam to argue, Dean prompted Sam to rest his mop top noggin on his knees. It might not do any good, but if Sam was concentrating on breathing his mind was not on the failed hunt. Dean wasn't thrilled that they failed. Not only did it mean the death of an innocent man, it meant more covert time in courthouse.

"Sam, we know that Paul Winston was innocent and you did your damndest to prove it."

"As bait.. Dean."

"Sam, if not him….then it would have been someone else. That man was screwed until you got that lawyer and asshole junior involved.

"Dean…Ron….I know.. he's an assh…"

"Anyway Sam, he would have been rotting in jail without your help. We were trying to save him.

"But at least….he…..be alive."

"Sam, we don't know that."

"Only….innno…"

"I know Sam, but if we weren't here… it would never stop.. Sam you can't blame yourself…"

"Dean? ……………………Its not working…"

"Calm down, don't panic. Let's get to the hospital."

"No…I'll be."

Dean didn't wait for an argument, but balanced Sam's arm over his neck to pull him up. With one sharp gasp, Sam shuttered. His body toppled crashing back taking Dean with him.

"Sammy…no…no… no… we didn't do this undercover crap for this… Sammy!"


	3. Booked

Struggling to reallocate the bulkiness of Sam's body off of him, Dean desperately squirmed from underneath the now titanic weight of Sam. Dean needed to get his brother alert and moving fast. Ultimately with one great shove, Dean freed himself. He was careful to support Sam's head from cracking against the cement steps.

"Okay, I got you, Sammy!"

With that task accomplished, his attentions returned to Sam's condition. Sam's pulse was constant, but his breathing was still slow and labored. The larger distress was the fact Sam's skin was arctic chilled. Sam's upper body struggled to regain warmth. The cold and injury had affected him deeply. Whatever he had encountered was significant and powerful. It had impeded Sam from protecting the now beheaded ex-defendant. In fact, it had thumped Sam out for the count, affected Sam's body temperature to a frightening degree, and beheaded an innocent man. Dean had never been happy with this hunt, but he was less happy with not knowing how to fight or what to fight. Already a week into this hunt, and they still had no clue as to what was happening. There wasn't time to begrudge the past. Dean needed to get Sam safe and warm.

As the sirens wailed in the distance, Dean became aware that the courthouse steps were not an opportune place to help Sam. Shifting his brother forward, Dean scooped him upon his shoulder. Packing his brother down the massive set of step, he ran as fast as humanly possible. The frigidity within Sam rolled out and spilled into Dean's skin. "Damn it, you're freezing."

He hustled across the courtyard to the grassy park area, the same location Sam found solitude earlier. It was close enough, but far enough away for the courthouse action. Bedlam still reigned far behind them, as people still spilled out the courthouse doors in terror. He had little time to quell that situation, with the urgency to revive Sam. Carefully lowering Sam to the grass, Dean leaned his brother against a park bench. His torso felt like a glacier, showing no signs of accepting warmth.

Dean was becoming increasingly concerned. "Come on! Wake up!" Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's frame and briskly rubbed at the cold. "Sam, you are tougher than this. Come on."

Groggily, Sam moaned. The friction of Dean's hands felt like abuse as the cold within seemed to be fighting those efforts. Finally, a warm burst of air found its way to his lung. He contracted in the shock of warm mixing with cold. He sucked in another warm breath that shot through the chill inside his lungs. The impact still stung in his muscles. It felt like someone had reached inside him and froze him all the way to the bone. "Uhhhh," he mumbled. Slowly, his body began to warm.

"Come on. Wake your ass up." Dean bordered on frantic.

Sam shook his head as if he was going to come out of it. Dean rubbed his hands harder upon Sam's frigid body. "That a boy! Fight it off." Sam's eyes fluttered open and close. "Come on. Let's just get ya warm."

"Hey, what are you doing!" He heard a voice scream from the top of the courthouse.

Dean's face scrunched in hatred. He knew that voice, one akin to fingernails on a chalkboard. "Ron," he grumbled. He didn't have time to see what Ron's damage was, but continued trying to ward off the coldness clinging to his brother. Sam's eyes fluttered again, struggling to focus. "Okay...can you see me?!? Come on, look at me. There ya go..wake up sleepyhead."

"BOY!" Get the hell off of him"

Again Dean kept his attention upon Sam. Each moment caused him more worry.

"I SAID...what do you think you are DOING, BOY!" About the time Ron chose to scream, a fleet of cop cars arrived. Sirens echoed in the courtyard. The best choice would be to run, but he wasn't leaving Sam for anything. Ron screamed again, "Get the hell off our friend."

Dean snapped his head to find Ron screaming at him. Ron and Mark, both, gave Dean a strange look. Dean stared at them both defiantly as he tried to return his brother to the land of the conscious.

Dean didn't answer but started to shake Sam. Sam's eyes fluttered again, struggling to focus. "Okay...can you see me?!? Come on, look at me." He shook harder. That was all the time Dean had to revive Sam.

Dean's head rattled as something large cracked into his face. He fell back and landed with a thud. His body rolling over a small incline for several inches, He stopped face down in the plush grass.

---------------------------

Sam stirred, relishing the crisp air that filled his lungs. His body comforted by softness below him. As he tried to rise, gentle hands pressed him back down.

"Just relax. You're going to be okay."

He struggled to focus on the uniform before him, drawing it into a fuzzy focus. He felt the bitter stabbing pain within him, but knowing that Dean was there was consoling. He shook away the fog and took another deep breath.

"That's it...breathe in slowly."

Gradually, his eyes adjusted and his mind became clear. It was the first time he noticed the uniform was not the same as his brother's disguise. His sight line shot upwards to discover a young paramedic above him. Struggling to speak, he became aware his mouth and nose had been covered by an oxygen mask. He was loaded in the back of the parked ambulance, ready to take him to the hospital. Suddenly, he became aware that Ron, Mark, and the paramedic surrounded him, but Dean was nowhere in sight.

He attempted to sit with a new motivation: to find Dean. With the oxygen mask still on his face, he screamed, "Where's Dean." The triad of onlookers heard "Wear dead." The paramedic was already pushing Sam back to the gurney, but Sam was having no part of that.

"Sir, I need you to lie still. We are taking you to the emergency room."

"Take it easy, Sam, my man. Mark and I found you just in time."

Sam still pushed to get out of the paramedic's grasp. His determination to sit and get rid of the oxygen mask won out over the inexperienced paramedic.

"Where's Dean?" His voice was a little too dramatic for a passing curiosity.

"Take it easy. We got that sucker. His ass is never going to hurt anyone ever again."

"WHAT!" Sam grew more concerned and attempted to get off the gurney. Standing, he was thankful his legs were steady. "Where is he!???"

"Whoa!! Hold on, Sam." Martin said grasping Sam before he could jump out the open ambulance doors.

"He is taken care of. He won't hurt anyone ever again. He's in the other ambulance getting the knot on his head looked at, then Sheriff Tanner is waiting to take him for booking."

"Booking!?"

"The sheriff's just glad we caught that murderous fiend before he could kill again."


	4. Rift

No!" Sam bolted out the open ambulance doors, looking for the second one that held Dean. His mind screamed to rescue his brother and find a way out. A crowd of onlookers had gathered, gawking at the flashing lights and the morbid clean-up of the events. The blinking flashes were brighter and more colorful than fireworks on the 4th of July. A hodgepodge of personnel littered the courthouse and lawn in a confusing circus. It didn't take him long to find the additional vehicle and the deputy guarding it. What Sam wouldn't pay to have an arsenal of weapons right at this moment. Even in these odds, Sam was prepared to fight their way out. Adding to his woes, he didn't know his condition.

Sprinting closer to the open ambulance doors, Sam could see his brother's wrist cuffed to a gurney and the blood spatter upon Dean's hand. Before Sam had time to panic or see how injured his brother was, he heard the agitated sound of Dean's voice.

"I told you to get off me. I'm fine!" Dean grunted and paused. "And I didn't attack anyone. I was trying to help my bro...Damn it. I was trying to help."

Another voice answered, "This will go a lot easier on you if you confess."

"Sir, I need to dress that gash," a third man joined in.

"Ahh.. Get off………" Dean grumbled even louder. "GRRRRR……Okay, alright.. I confess I was helping that guy." Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I do feel better. DO YOU!?" The urgency in his voice changed. "Now, tell me how is he doing? Is he okay?"

"Afraid of an additional murder charge??? You seem awful interested in this man's condition. I have two witnesses that place you attacking this kid."

"AHHHH...I told you."

Sam skidded to a stop as the deputy held him from entering. At least he could see Dean now. Another paramedic was patching a crack to Dean's head, much to Dean's dismay. He knew Dean was concerned about finding him. As he locked eyes with his brother, they both simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.

"Dean!" Sam yelled over the deputy's shoulder.

Sam noticed the owner of the other voice was the local sheriff, who seemed extremely interested in questioning his brother. The sheriff looked quizzically at Sam. "Kid, you shouldn't be up. We'll take care of this…Come on-let him through." Just as the sheriff had ordered, the deputy let Sam pass. "Now, don't you worry, son, we got him."

"What?"

"I tried to tell them. They think I was attacking you and hurt that man inside. I keep telling him, I've never hurt another human in my life. But _Nothing Else Matters_ to them...except pinning this on somebody."

Sam understood Dean message instantly, recognizing their devised codes. They hadn't ran his fingerprints and hadn't figured out he was wanted. ""No. You don't understand, sheriff. This seems to be a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding, son... I have 7 murders in 5 months and this guy working in the courthouse has easy access."

"Yeah, but I just moved here. Damn, you make Barney Fife look like a crack investigator."

Sam shot Dean a look to stop pressing his luck. Before the Sheriff had a chance to remind his prison to watch his lip, Sam interrupted. "Mr. Newsted was trying to help me. I got nailed by whatever attacked Paul Winston. This guy pulled me out, when everyone else just panicked. You have the wrong guy."

Dean gave the sheriff the "I told you so" look and rattled the cuffs. "Ahem."

"Are you telling me that this cretin wasn't attacking you?"

"Sorry, but you I'm afraid the killer is still out there. He is telling you the truth.

Rattling the cuffs louder, Dean was growing impatient. The sheriff eyed Dean as a piece of garbage anyway, but dug out his key.

Sam gave Dean a disapproving father-like glance to tell him to cool the smartass attitude for the moment.

Dean glared back. It was obvious; Dean had taken enough abuse this week and was ready to blow. As the cuffs fell away from his wrist, Dean grabbed his wrist and rubbed it disgruntledly. "Thanks, Ponch!"

Dean jumped off the gurney and the paramedic tried to grab his arm to finish his work. "Get off me!" Dean barked the order. He bounded out the ambulance door, but used the bumper to settle his balance. The crack to his head was obviously affecting him. "Excuse me," he said as he pushed past Sam.

It was the first time that the pretense they were not brothers had bothered Sam, even if it was his idea.

Dean stormed through the gaggle of police, reporters, onlookers, and emergency personnel as if he was hell-bent on a mission.

As Dean had progress about halfway through the crowd, it dawned on Sam what his brother had in mind. He sprinted after his brother, pushing his own way through. "Dean! Stop!"

Even if Dean heard Sam, he wasn't stopping. Locating his current nemesis, Dean drew back his fist and slammed it into Ron's face.

As Ron fell backwards, Mark managed to catch him before he crashed to the ground. The now furious Ron regained his footing quickly. "I'll have you ass for that, Boy."

Dean snapped his head to dare Ron. "Don't you call me Boy, AGAIN. I ain't your Boy! Don't you ever call me BOY!" Dean's fist was already drawn for a second punch, but Sam managed to catch up and pull him back.

Unfortunately, the sheriff did too. "Hey, hey, now no more of that. Boy, are you trying to press you luck with me."

The word boy shot through him like combustion in his blood. "Oh, I punch his ass and you're in my face. I was the one who was attacked, why don't you hassle his lawyer ass!???!"

Sam pulled Dean harder, holding him back. He whispered, "Cool it." San tried to diffuse the situation. "I think this whole event has us all on edge. Why don't we forget about it? I mean, he has a head injury and obviously isn't thinking straight."

"I think that would be the best for everyone. Let's get you two boys to the hospital and checked out and forget this whole mess." The sheriff offered not as a conflict resolution, but to sweep away the mistaken conclusion they jumped to earlier.

Dean was still ready to protest, but Sam whispered, "Don't push it."

In disgust, Dean relaxed his effort to break free and Sam released his grip. He inched away from Sam. "No thanks, I have all the medical help I need right here." Dean withdrew his flask from his front uniform pocket and took a hefty swig.

The warmth of the liquid splashed in his mouth as he took a hard swallow. Momentarily, the silver container was quickly pulled away from Dean's gullet, causing several swallows to spill down his face. "What the hell!

The sheriff turned the container over and poured the whiskey upon the plush ground. "Son, this is a dry county. We don't allow alcohol to in and we don't sell it. You can't buy it and you can't transport it in."

Sam grabbed his brother's arm again to keep him from wailing on the sheriff, but Dean's mouth was still a weapon onto itself. "A dry what!!! You have to be kidding ME! Listen, Ace Ventura, whatever crap pot laws you have in this hellhole, I've about had it!"

"Boy, I suggest you watch who you are giving lip. You're lucky I don't haul your ass in and allow you to cool off. As it is, I'm cutting you slack."

Sam could tell Dean was over the limit of his patience, but Sam jerked him back. Before Dean could smart mouth, Sam said "Thanks. I appreciate it. The guy did save my life." The sheriff tossed the empty flask to Dean, which he caught with easy. He jutted it back into the safety of his pocket. Sam nudged Dean back further, mouthing "go". For a moment, Sam felt that Dean was not going to take the suggestion. Taking a moment, Dean glared at Martin, Ron, and the Sheriff in distaste and hatred. Finally, his eyes rested on Sam. He glanced at Sam with disbelief and hurt in his eyes.

"FINE…have it your way!" Sam knew Dean was talking to him, unbeknownst to the others.

Dean turned his back on his brother and walked away. Sam wanted to follow him. When he got back to the motel, he would apologize. He was reflecting on how to smooth things over, when Ron patted him on the shoulder.

"Come on, Sam. I think you should get checked out."

Sam had didn't find time to argue, as the sheriff had joined in Ron's statement. "They're right, son. I'll talk to you there. Don't you worry about that hothead. He'll be fine. We got a lot of good ole boys just like him. They don't use the good sense God gave 'em."

Sam allowed Ron and Martin to lead him back to the ambulance. He turned once to see his brother's back fading down the path in the opposite direction. He turned away and climbed into the back doors. His gaze so fleeting that he didn't notice his brother had stopped and was waiting for him.

Watching Sam being lead away, Dean felt his brother slipping away from him. He always thought Sam was like him, but not he knew Sam wasn't. Sam was better-always was. His eyes were wide and wet as he held back the fear of losing Sam in a way he never dreamed. The pull was so great that he and Sam were now fighting like Sam and his Dad. Worse yet, he didn't know if Sam wanted to fix the divide between them.


	5. Widening the Divide

**---------------------------------------**

**Outside Mercy Hospital...**

"Sam, are you sure you don't want to stay overnight? Doc says you were hit pretty hard." Martin gave Sam a confused look.

"I'm fine. Just a few cracked ribs."

"Sam here can handle anything." Ron grabbed Sam's shoulder and nudged him.

"At least join us for dinner. Sue is meeting us. We were going to celebrate OUR..." Martin patted Sam's back. "win today, but I think it would be good for all of us to regroup instead."

"Plus, I don't think you should be alone just in case you are acting all tough guy on us." Ron joked. He danced out little mock boxer punches.

"I won't be alone, I'll be fine." Sam wanted to argue. He knew Dean would be waiting. They had their own investigation to do.

"You got a girl you've been hiding on us." Ron chuckled as he and Martin both displayed puzzled expressions.

Realizing he had slipped, Sam quickly corrected. "I mean there are more people in the building. I'll be fine."

"Sam, I'm afraid we can't celebrate without you, young man." Martin said warmly. "After all, I need to get to know you a lot better. So far, I have to say I'm impressed."

Sam was caught by his own ruse. He had used his connection with Ron to get access, now he had little choice but to follow through with the con. "Alright, but I'm still calling it an early night."

--------------------------------------

The Tidewater Grill bustled with activity. In the front window, three men waited for their fourth. A slender, leggy brunette made her way to the table. From her stance it was obvious she was use to playing with the big dogs, but somehow she still seemed soft and womanly. The sheer hose that clung to her defined muscular legs, had not been unnoticed by either Winchester during their stay. The men all stood as she arrived out of custom and politeness. As she sat, they returned to their former positions.

"Sam, have you met Sue." Martin said. It was obvious Martin held affection for her. It was obvious she thought of him on friendly terms.

"Not really, but we have passed each other in the courthouse." Sam extended his hand to properly greet her.

She grasped it firmly without hesitation. "Sue. Yeah. I've seen you around. Hope you don't judge our town too harshly. Things have not been normal lately."

"Sue." Martin grabbed her hand. "If this is too hard for you, we can call it a night."

"No, I'm okay. I just wish they could catch whoever is doing this. It would put my mind at easy to know the killer was rotting in jail." A sad, distance look painted her soft features causing Sam to be slightly baffled and suspicious. However, Sue noticed his penetrating stare and quickly changed the subject. "Shall we eat?"

---------------------------------------

The Riverside View motel was so quiet. Normally silence was not Dean's thing. Often he filled it with music or a classic horror film just to pass the time. Tonight, he just stewed in the day's events. Managing to be mad, hurt, and feel sorry for Sam at the same time was beyond annoying. He squirmed in the recliner and thudded his head into the back cushion for the millionth time. He stared at his watch for the millionth time. 11:01 it read. He sighed.

He was getting fed up with waiting. He had been waiting for hours as he sat in the chair, hoping the pain killers he had taken hours ago would take effect on his screaming head. Most of the time, he would begin the same squirm, thud, and glance every 15 minutes or so. He stared at a blank TV screen, waiting for Sam. The minutes dragging slowly as fear and worry ran through his head: Sam fit in this world so well, Sam would leave again, Sam was really hurt, Why Sam hadn't called him, and Sam didn't need him. He thought he knew Sam and knew what was best for him. Seeing Sam's love of the law had made him wonder, if he knew anything at all. They couldn't even speak to each other anymore without yelling. Dean swore he would fix it. When Sam got back, he would be calm.

Repeating the cycle for another time, Dean's head pounded yet again. The watch read 11:17 p.m. Dean thought about doing something useful, but the crack to his head was throbbing. At least, he gave Ron a good wallop, not that he didn't deserve another 20 poundings. Dean swore that bastard would get those beatings and then some. "Pompous ass!" Dean muttered as he popped four more aspirins.

Dejectedly he strode to the refrigerator, the last lonely beer stood alone in an empty void and not a shred of food to be seen. Dean groaned out of hunger and disappointment that he wouldn't see alcohol again for a while. He could go grab a bite, but waiting for Sam was more important. Sauntering back to his recliner, he thudded into the chair and glanced at his watch again- 11:23 p.m.

Worry caused him to shift. Taking a sip of beer to calm himself, he tried to push back his anger and anxiety. Finally giving up, Dean abandoned his almost full beer. He didn't care if he had another run in with Ron. He had to check on Sam.

------------------------------------------

The sounds of laughter filled the almost deserted Tidewater Grill. A quartet of voices enjoyed yet another loud chuckle.

"I'm telling you Sam. Ron was so nervous when he was questioning the coroner he asked 'Do you recall approximately the time that you examined the body?' and the coroner answered 'The autopsy started about 8:30 p.m.' then Ron goes 'and Mr. Cummingham was dead at the time, is that correct?"

"The entire jury moaned. I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Thankfully, Martin just gave me an amused look or I would have died of humiliation." Ron chuckled.

"Did you guys hear about the man that woke up in a hospital bed and called for his doctor. He asked "Give it to me straight, doc. How long have I got?" The physician replied that he doubted that his patient would survive the night. The man then said "Call for my lawyer." When his lawyer arrived, the man asked for his physician to stand on one side of the bed, while the lawyer stood on the other. The man then laid back and closed his eyes. When the man remained silent for several minutes, the lawyer asked what he had in mind. The man replied "Jesus died with a thief on either side, and I thought I'd check out the same way." Martin cracked into a belly laugh, pleased with his joke retelling.

"I like the story about the stipper lap dancer who was accused of killing a wealthy landowner." Sue giggled.

Sam laughed heartily. "Do I even want to know?"

Martin cackled. "No…you don't."

"Oh, Sam this girl gives new meaning of the word air head." Ron threw his head back and rolled his eyes. "Some people just don't know their place, like that janitor guy. He needs to watch who he is messing with."

Martin tried to redirect the conversation. "Ron, let it go. You know that sometimes the clients we get are not too bright and hotheaded. It's not that uncommon here."

Sam grew a bit irritated. He tried hard to keep his mouth shut, but the urge to put Ron in his place was becoming overwhelming.

"Oh, that guy. He gave me the once over the other day. Gave me the creeps, then he actually flirted with me. I couldn't believe he thought he had a chance." Sue laughed a little too hard.

Thankfully, Sue's reaction fooled everyone but Sam. He knew Sue was put off that a lowly janitor hit on her, but her voice told Sam that she was attracted and liked Dean hitting on her. That amusement helped Sam maintain his need to blow off steam before he spoke. "I think you ALL should cut him some slack. Not only did he save me, but he always is really nice to everyone." The urge to jab Ron sneaked back in his mind."And Ron, you have been a real shit to him. You mess with people too much and sometimes it gets you punched." Sam was careful to add a playful push to Ron.

Martin and Sue laughed. "That's Ron. Pompous ass!" Martin shoved Ron's other arm.

"Can I help it if I dislike the slow and stupid. He started it. I was minding my own business and he was listening to my cell phone conversation. Then he gave me a weird look like I had no right to be where he was cleaning. I just wanted to remind him of his place."

"And saying rude things and making messes for him to clean is his place?" Sam didn't mask this statement as a joke at all. He knew Ron had started this when Dean was cleaning the toilets. Not that cleaning the toilets had put Dean in a good mood, but someone using the cell phone in the can was odd even by their standards. Yelling at Dean at that moment was a big jackass move. The games Ron played after that were just as bad. Sam wondered how Dean held the need to punch Ron back all this time.

"RON! That's horrible. I'd punch you too!" Sue was taken aback by Ron's behavior. "I'm not interested in the guy, but that is no excuse to be mean to the poor man." She said poor man a bit too passionately.

Sam noted Dean must have really laid some good lines on her. At least Sam would have a good lead into a conversation with Dean when he returned. It slowly dawned on Sam that he had been here too long. "What time is it!?"

"11:45"

"Damn, I should have been out of here awhile ago. I'm really tired." Sam tried to excuse himself. He wanted to smack himself for letting time slip away. This wasn't going to help him at all with his apology to Dean.

-------

Dean steered the Impala towards downtown Shaftner. He wasn't even sure where the hospital was, but he was going to find it. At the first red light, Dean noticed two pretty girls sitting in front of the local restaurant.

"Hey, excuse me ladies!" He put on his broad smile. As the women smiled in return, Dean's attention was drawn to movement in the restaurant's window. Ire grew within him as he saw Sam throw his head. The girls looked at the sour face with bewilderment. Dean noticed quickly. "You know what, nevermind, I see what I need. Thanks."

Dean didn't wait until the light changed, but scrammed away from the scene. He had waited half the day and night to see if Sam was okay. Now, he found him in cahoots with a man that treated him like pond scum. The thought seeped in his head, Sam is not one of us after all, and maybe he never was.


	6. Loner

Thumping the cab door and throwing cash into the passenger window, Sam sprinted into the motel entrance, passed the small lobby, and down the hall to their room. He had practiced an apologetic tone in his head on the way over and thought that was not the way to start a conversation with a pissed off Dean. Instead, he thought the best way was to tell Dean a certain lady was having a few moments over him, and then follow it by the Ron in the hot seat moment. That would brighten Dean's mood for sure. Glancing at his watch, he hoped it was enough. "Damn. 12:30!"

Turning the key, Sam launched into speaking before he had opened the door. "Dean, you know that public defender you have been buttering up…" Sam swung the door wide. "…she so has the hots for you." Sam tried to make his speech Dean-like. He wanted to show his brother he was with him and understood this hunt was getting to him. "And I burned Ron's ass tonig…" It was then that Sam noticed he was alone. "Dean?"

Sam's training and instincts lead him to search the room. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, except for a half-drank, warm beer. That was enough to make Sam wonder if something bad happened to Dean or, worse, had Dean left him behind.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The EMF meter flashed like department store Christmas lights display. Dean swung the meter down the dimly lit courthouse corridor. Any direction he turned found the same readings. In all of his years and hunts, he had never seen it react this way. Every direction he turned only gave him more readings of a powerful energy. His free hand rubbed at this chin in confusion and frustration.

He was trying to move along with the investigation to get out of this freaking town and forget how he was feeling for the moment. Part of him wanted to let Sam stay in the real world, but deep down he needed Sam too. He was finding it hard to not take it personal. He wondered if he meant nothing to Sam. Dean's hope decayed as he felt the last part of his family drifting away from him. Pushing his self doubting debate away again, he forced his thoughts to cluster on this hunt and nothing else. His attention returned to the wildly clicking and flashing EMF meter, but part of him still wished for his faithful back-up to be here.

Creeping up the hallway, the lights still flashed excitedly. Finally, he came upon the murder scene where Paul Winston met his demise. "Met his!???" Dean had pondered over the words left at the scene for a least a week now. They had tried to find law terms that might include these words, treated the words as a riddle to solve, and they had even played with anagrams- The mis, This me, mist he, hit mes. None of the combinations or solutions seemed to make sense. "Met his?..." He deliberated aloud. "Met his…match? Met his…maker…. Met his….doom….Met his…death? Argh." The frustration of not being able to solve this puzzle was grating.

Abruptly, the meter flashed and clicked sporadically, resting on the highest reading level and the lights were solidly lit. There was no blinking what so ever. "Holy Crap!" This oddity of an energy so powerful to set off the meter to highest level was impossible. Even the most powerful spirit they had met was nowhere near this level. He would have thought he was near the courthouse power supply. Thanks to his undercover role, he knew where everything was and he was no where even close to a power supply.

Bending down and crouching over the large blood puddle, Dean mused. "I'll be cleaning that up tomorrow. UGHH!" But the meter held constant with all the lights still shining bright. Turning off the meter and shoving it in his pocket, he sighed that his handmade device was not being as useful as he had hoped. Pulling a penlight from his jacket, he examined the blood puddle closely. It was then he noticed it. The cops would have overlooked it as tissue or liquids from the victim, but he knew better. It was ectoplasm and a fair amount of it. The residual energy from it was still powerful enough to cause a powerful reaction on his EMF. "Shit, this is going to be one bad Mofo!"

--------------------------

Sam twirled the abandoned beer bottle between his hands. Pouring the contents in the sink, he tapped the bottle a moment before he threw it in the waiting garbage can. With a sigh, he grew more concerned. He had discovered the Impala was gone, so Dean had driven somewhere. At least some jerk, like Ron, had not done anything to his brother. But at two in the morning, Sam was not comfortable not knowing were Dean was.

Jerking his cell phone from his pant pocket, he dialed Dean for the hundredth time.

-----------------------------------------------------

The first chords of "Rock me like a Hurricane" blared in the courthouse hallway and lobby again. Dean knew it was Sam, but he didn't want to say things in bitterness, if that was what he was feeling. He didn't want to say things in regret either- things he couldn't take back or things that would mean the end of the walls he had carefully built. He wasn't ready to let that go just yet. In truth he wasn't ready to let Sam go just yet, even though he knew it was what he should do. After all, he wanted Sam to be happy. He just didn't think it might take his brother out of his life again. He wanted the words to not be twinged by his expectations to be "Winchesters: Kickass Hunters", the Crockett and Tubbs of things that go bump in the night. He chuckled as the image of he and Sam in pastels suits was incredibly frightening. He wondered if all those years of playing the loner had lead him to this moment. As much as he wanted to tell Sam that he wanted to be brothers and brothers in arms, he wanted better for Sam too. He wanted to be better- to be someone Sam could look up to. Right now, he didn't trust himself to say the words. He was too hurt to form those words.

---------

Sam flipped his phone closed. He boiled with anger and fear. The feelings he had felt before returned. The feelings when Dean treated him like a stranger and walked away from him. Slowly the realization set in, Dean didn't need him. Sam's heart sank. He wondered if his brother had left him behind to be the loner again. He had spent so much time fighting to get out of this world because he wanted to belong in the normal world, but he belonged in the hunting world more than he realized. Now, Dean didn't want to him to be. The guilt of the wedge between them now was on his shoulders, but he hoped to find a way to keep his family together. He dialed the phone another time.

---------------------------------------------------

"Damn it, Sam!" His little brother was making avoiding him about as easy as nailing' Jell-O to the wall. The song played on a bit before Dean finally grabbed the phone from his jacket pocket. He was about to flick it open when he heard the distinct click of a cocking gun behind him. He whipped around to find a flashlight glaring in his face. He could trace the outline of a barrel pointed at his head.


	7. Tarot

**_Author's Note: For some reason Chapter 7 was not accessible. Thanks for the messages that it wouldn't work. I love you for letting me know. I hope the reload helps. I appreciate the assistance. _**

**_---------------------- _**

Sam drew in a baited breath, letting the phone ring into infinity as he thought of the many ways to kick Dean's ass. His brother was always impatient and quick to rile. Sam always thought it was because his brother felt everything deeper than he would ever admit. He didn't expect Dean to be in a good mood, but was it too much to ask that he answer the damn phone. Sam's mind raced, wondering if Dean was punishing him for the growing distance between them. He now wished he had told his brother that he didn't mean to be so cold, that it was all part of the job. More importantly, he wanted to his brother to know he wanted to tell Ron his big brother had more admirable qualities in one moment than that jackass would in a life time. There was more to look up to than many others in this world. It was this thought that lingered within Sam, yet he found he was still infuriated.

He had loved digging in law books again, helping an innocent man. All the years he had ran from the hunting life had led him to law. He had thought it was a departure from a violent, evil, and demanding life, but it was identical to being a hunter. Law peeked his interest because he was helping those that needed help, helping those that need justice. Sam often thought his Dad, in his own hostile, odd way, was trying to tell him years earlier that he had the need to protect the innocent. In that way, all three of them were alike. It was only now Sam recognized it. Now, he regretted many of the harsh words between him and his father. He didn't want that same thing with Dean.

He knew Dean was worried about the divide they both felt. The void of restlessness and failed communication had brought his brother to a place of being the lone wolf again. Since the deal, Dean was more willing to go off on his own, go away from Sam's watchful eye. He hoped his brother would understand that he had found greater purpose now, found meaning in a messed up world of demons, creatures, and ghosts. He had a greater responsibility in providing justice to more than a defendant. Every creature, every evil thing they killed saved not one but many. Finally, closing the phone, he stopped his constant redial. Giving Dean some space to cool off, giving himself time to let his anger wash way, Sam would be by his brother's side when the battle began- just like they both wanted it to be.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean's reaction was not one of fear, but a healthy respect for the damage a bullet could do. Having been on the receiving end a few times was more than enough. Until he could find out who was on the other end and just how much trouble it was going to cause him, he was willing to play this one cool. Always aware, since he didn't have to deal with security now, that he had his trusty gun with silver bullets and his saw off shot gun with rock salt in the back of his jeans and an abundance of other weapons at his fingertips should he need them.

He raised his hands slowly, the penlight on his keychain still gripped in his right hand. "Okay... easy...don't shot." His arms were high above his head, but he remained crouched near the blood spill.

"D..d...don't you move!" A shaky, feminine voice attempted to sound tough and threatening.

"I'm not moving, Damn it." Dean sounded a bit bitter and frustrated, but he was really amused. He smirked knowing the greatest danger he was in would be if this chic panicked and pulled the trigger by accident.

"Drop what's in you h..h…hand. Get on the g-ground." The shaky order meeked its way out.

Dean let the keys fall with a clinch and clatter to a spot on the floor without scarlet liquid. "Lady, if you haven't noticed, this place is just nasty. I am not laying in anyone's blood, GUN or not." He played on his agitation.

"I said down!" Her tone sounded more forceful now as he provoked her by his tone.

It was then, recognizing her aggressive woman ruling a man's world cadence, that Dean realized his gunslinger was the court clerk he had been trying to crack, unsuccessfully, lately. He couldn't help but smile. He shifted slightly to stare at the shining beam head on. "Wait..I know you." He squinted. "Uhhh...uhh.." He pretended not to know her name. "Uhh.. Sara..no Sue?...yeah, Sue. Holy crap woman put the gun down. I work here."

"That still doesn't explain what you are doing here this late at night!" She demanded a bit too eagerly.

"I..." He began to speak so slow like a person giving complex directions to a child. "W-O-R-K here! I thought I would get this place cleaned before...wait...what are you doing here?!"

"I...I...I..." Her increased stuttering and avoidance of his question, gave Dean time to move. He lunged to his feet and grabbed the gun before her mind could find and excuse to give him. Locking his eyes with hers, Dean noticed the defiance he always felt within her faded into oblivion. When her mouth opened again, he knew it would be the untainted truth. "I was hoping the police missed some clue, something I could see that would find…" Her voice trailed off in sadness. He felt her body tremble.

"It's okay. Why don't we get you somewhere to sit down?" He began to guide her down the fall, stopping only to scoop up his keys and jut them into his jean pocket.

She nodded and allowed him to lead her to her small office, where he had tried many times to flirt with her. He seemed softer to her as he guided her into a place she felt safe, a place of solitude. She expected him to release her, but he led her to one of the comfy office chairs, crouching down as if he was guarding her through her pain. When she looked back at him, all she could see was a man, who appeared to actually care. "I'm okay. Sorry."

"Not a big deal. So, why are you so interested? I clean this place, so if I notice anything…"

"Wishful thinking. My sister……Jan was the first victim of the beh…" She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"I'm sorry." Dean wanted to rush out questions about what crime her sister was supposed to have committed. "Losing your family is hard."

"Thanks. Just need a moment to remember, you know?"

"Yeah." His voice was kind and he had a better understanding of what she felt, perhaps more than anyone.

Sue's eyes floated to the art work on her wall. Instinctively, his eyes followed. "Wow!"

"What?"

"Those are great. You like Tarot, huh?"

"You know Tarot?' The surprise in her voice entertained Dean more. So, tell me how does a janitor know so much about Tarot?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Long story. My family finds all that kind of stuff…uh.. interesting." Dean examined three large painting of the Justice card.

"My sister painted those. Said they would bring me luck and ensure that Justice was always given."

"They are amazing." All the mats bore the name of the precise deck of tarot cards the images were inspired from. Dean started at the three works in admiration.

The first of the set was delicate; a beautiful auburn hair woman perched on a stone. Her twirling curls offset the green huge of her eyes, wide open without the typical blindfold. At her waist, she held a diminutive set of scales in her one hand. A flowing gown of lavender spilled over the stone. The bodice was the same hue, but adorned by an amulet of the world. Behind her the landscape was half in light and half in shadow. The hilt of a sword arched from a back holster.

The second seemed to contain every shade of blue in the spectrum- azure, cobalt, sapphire and cerulean. The background was as turbulent as a sea during a hurricane, but the calm in the center as another woman of indescribable beauty. She was standing amidst the confusion of blues. Her straight raven hair fell neatly behind her back. Holding the scales high above her head with one hand and the great sword to the ground, she looked both fierce and gentle. A wind swirl wrapped around her body and covered her eyes.

The last appeared to be Romanesque with a lady perched on steps like the Parthenon. Behind her swirls of red, like the colors of a sunrise, were striking contrasts to her white full length gown. He wavy blonde locks were pinned in a neat bun and embellished with a small crown. She was blinded by a black cloth binding upon her eyes. High above her head, the scales dangled. Her sword was more slender than the preceding artwork. However this sword was in a defensive position, pointing to the sky as if she was prepared to strike.

'She was talented."

"We both were interested in standing up for what's right, but she was the most talented…Always felt things more acutely than I did." She sighed and crossed over behind him. "When, I lost her to that…"

'Sorry, I don't mean to ask you about painful.." His hand guided to her face to reassure her it was okay. As his fingers touched her cheek, Sue arched forward and her lips grabbed onto his. Sensation filled Dean and his lips followed hers. A sense of cockiness spilled into his lips, fueled by the satisfaction she liked him more than she had let on. She moved his jacket off his shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Minutes passed as they shared in the chemistry between them. The platitudes she held that he was not good enough for her pushed back for the moment. His hand reached for her waist and he rested his hand on the small of her back.

As soon as she felt his hands upon her body, she tensed, realizing she was consorting with a lowly janitor. She wasn't prepared to let her self-image to slip away so easily, the image her being tough enough and better. She refused to accept any man, except those within her class. Somewhere the partition between attraction and her plans fell and her body obeyed her command to pull away from Dean. "What are you doing!" She pushed him back. "You're…You're just like all men. Get a kiss and you think the girl is ready to drop her pants."

Dean looked befuddled by her hot and cold reaction. His perplexed moment was rapidly turning to snark. "You're not wearing pants. That's a skirt. Just the same, I'd love to see your legal briefs."

His amusement did little to improve her mood. "Ahhh." Mouth agape and scoffing, Sue teetered on anger. "You ass. Get OUT!"

Cocking his head in amusement, Dean smiled. Not to be outdone and for good measure, he leaned forward and whispered as sexily as possible. "Fine." Warm breath tingled and excited her skin.

"GET OUT NOW!" She was not offended by his words, but the timbre of his voice made her feel the weakness again. "You think you get to have your way with any woman. You should be punished.

"I don't suppose there's a "you get me off, I get you off" type of deal here?"

"OOHHHHH!!!...Men like you deserve to get punished." She was pushing him backwards towards her door.

Playfulness seeped into Dean, filling his mind with guttery notions. "I think MEN like me are exactly what you want." He allowed her to move him, giving her control. It would have been easy to fend her off and take over. He was stronger, but it wasn't often Dean got a good chase from a woman. His charms seemed to work abundant well and easily, so he was enjoying Sue's reaction for the moment.

Pressing him upon the closed to the door, she fumbled to open it and had to pull in close to him. His scent enticed her again, but her mind told her to send him packing. He was a complication she didn't need in her life. As she pulled the handle, she realized he would have to move off of the door for her to open. Glancing up, she found she like the smug look on his face, yet she held firm. "MOVE! So I can open this door!" Dean moved, but his body brushed against her teasingly. She failed the door open. "I want you out. Take that guilty looking smirk off your face. You aren't taking anything here tonight." She didn't wait for his response, but pushed him out the door.

Dean's arms reached out pulling her with him. "I don't think you want me to go." He leaned forward again, intent on kissing her again. Abruptly, he felt it, a chill upon a displacement of air. "GET DOWN!" He screamed. Pushing Sue to the floor with him, he felt a slice upon his skin as he fell forward. Sue stared up with revulsion filled eyes at phantom apparition. She was the first to see it and she pawed at Dean to save her. Her fingers crawled at his slumped form and found a sticky dampness. Raising her crimson hand, she froze between the frightening image before and the fresh blood on her hands.


	8. Justice

Sue endeavored to shift Dean off of her. As she wiggled, her eyes focused upon the two weapons in the waist band of his jeans. It would have been easy for her to remove one and fire, but her abhorrence took any rational ability from her. In utter shock, she switched her view from the weapons, the blood on her hands, and the phantom before her. The apparition looked at her strangely as if she wondered why the woman reacted in such panic. Curiously, the sword arched downward into a non-threatening posture. The ghostly murderer approached the injured Winchester and the wailing woman. Sue shook Dean violently in hopes he would save her from the frightener before her.

As the shifting and flickering ethereal being drew closer, the humidity in the air became arctic. Sue's voice cracked as if stolen by the chill upon the air, but it was her terror that took the sound and froze her body in place. No longer struggling, she froze her wide eyes upon the apparition inches before her, locking into some other worldly catatonic staring contest with a vengeful spirit.

Neither participant paid attention to the injured Dean. Attempting to stir and willing his body to do his bidding, he gasped in polar air. Quickly, he surmised that he had been injured. The biting temperature had taken away some of the pain, but the warm wetness upon his back told him it was a sizeable wound. The seeping of his own blood provided the only warmth to his body. In the mere seconds it took him to recover, the danger was a sliver away. Why it was not striking while he was down was a question he would ponder later. Feeling for the shortened shotgun at the small of his back, he would shoot first, worry much later. He wondered if the woman beneath him was alive. Her unmoving form called him to action, even though his body wanted to remain still. Rolling over as his hand gripped the weapon's hilt, he was already firing before he even saw the danger. The rock salt propelled and the spook dissipated and flickered away from them.

He sucked in a burst of the still brumal air. He didn't have time to assess Sue at the moment, but sunk his energy into sloppily getting up. He staggered a bit. However, his determination held him in place. The image reappeared several feet away from his position, watching him in obscene inquisitiveness. He surmised the creature was confused as it was not accustomed to having its prey fight back. It was then that Dean got the first view of the danger he was about to face.

Standing before him, an achromic specter took shape in a haunting form of Lady Justice. Unlike the paintings in Sue's office, this one was frightening with no softness to suggest that she was impartial. Her white gown flowed to the ground with an abundance of sanguine splatters as a trophy of her former victims. A slender black chain held a balance on it like a pendant. Raised in preparation to strike, the ebony sword's edge seemed to flash in the darkness as if real light reflected upon it edge. The spirit twisted in a spastic, mechanical jerk, sizing up the prey before her. The ashen tone of her skin reminded one of zombie in a Romero film- cold, white-grey. Blacken pupils ringed by a slender band of an emerald green hue brought the image of shark eyes to Dean's mind. The emerald band appeared to expand from the outside in, the reverse of how a human iris performs. The unnaturalness of it disturbed the eldest Winchester, much less the woman still on the ground.

Dean rapidly flinched his head to the fallen woman and the battle before him. His head darted and assessed that she was struck, not by the ghostly weapon, but her own disbelief and fear. He turned back towards the creature that gazed at him again with sepulchral eyes. He was barely holding up his own weight, not to mention holding back the piercing cold. He was sure that he couldn't get Sue out in his condition. "SUE!!!" His voice echoed down the massive hallway. Only he, Sue, and the ghost could receive his plea for her to snap back. His attention focused solely upon the spirit again, he continued to yell. "SUE!!! Get up. GET UP NOW!"

Sue heard him, but she was still horror stricken. His voice managed to dislodge some panic and she backed closer to the wall behind her in a crab-like crawl.

He was about to bark another barrage of orders to Sue when the apparition moved into another attack pattern. The sword rose with a clank and she dissipated. He waivered on his feet, bobbing like a Weeble. Dean flexed his aching cold muscles, willing his strength to hold out. The form reappeared to his right. Another force swing, intent to kill, found its way towards him. The blade grazed Dean's bicep as he spun to fire. Again, a barrage of rock salt spilled out of the shotgun. The load erupted into the ghost's face, causing it to scatter once again.

Dean's arm ached and flinched in unwillingness to respond. He forced his body to abide by his commands. His knees buckled slightly. Knowing he had to get out of there fast, he yelled louder than before. "SUE!!!!!!!!!!!!" Bending down, he attempted to prompt her to rise. "SUE!!!!!!" She snapped as his voice scattered a wall inside her. She began to shake. "SUE! Come on. We have to go."

"What...what...what...is..that.."

"I'll explain later. Come on. I need your help." Dean could feel heaviness in his body. Dean rose unsteadily. He wasn't sure if blood loss or the wintry freeze in his body was the culprit, but he couldn't rely on taking the chance of fighting with a civilian or passing out during a battle. Either could cause him to be toast. Sue couldn't defend herself much less help him. Surprisingly, she stood; ready to flee as fast as possible. "EASY! Hold on. I'll get you out, but I need you to help me." His voice was forceful, but even. His legs buckled again and he leaned against her.

"Oh my God. You're dying. Please…Don't leave me…Don't die."

"I'll be okay, but help me walk to the exit." Dean wasn't too sure how okay he was, but he needed the support to cross the hallway. "I'll cover us. If you see any movement let me know, I'll blast that ghost bitch again."

"G-gh-ghost?" Sue was not questioning what she saw, but somehow saying the words reaffirmed her fear.

Sensing his companion was bordering on falling apart, Dean willed his legs to move faster than he should. "Don't worry. I can protect us. She can't spring an attack now that I know she is here. Just keep going towards the door."

The apparition emerged again in front of the exit doors. Wasting no time waiting for another strike of the sword, Dean blasted the next salt round at the phantom. With a spastic flicker the image skittered in time for Sue and Dean to escape out the door.

As soon as he hit the steps, Dean felt his legs fold and crash. Like a toy left on for too long, his batteries were near depletion. Sue, unable to hold his weight, managed to keep him from crashing too hard.

"No, don't leave me. What if it comes back?"

Straining, he pushed effort to his limbs. "Help me to the car. Call.." He reached for his phone, but realized it was in his jacket upon Sue's office floor. "Damn it….Cell? I need your cell."

"It's in my office. Please get up." With desperation, she realized he needed a hospital. "Can you hold it off!???...I'll… I'll get you help. I'll get an ambulance. Please hold on... please."

Dean grabbed her hand. "No hospital! I need you to take me to Rock Top Motel- Room 13. Help me up." She was about to protest. "Your car...take me to Rock...Top..." He pulled on her arm to get her to pull him up to a half walk, letting her drag him to her car. "Rock Top- Room 13..." He flung his body to rest on her hood when she opened the car door. He gave all his effort to assist her with his leaden body. She tried to easy him into the seat, but he half collapsed in it. Shutting the passenger door behind him, she raced to the driver seat determined to get him to the hospital. As she jumped in the car, still half shaken, he grabbed her again. "ROCK TOP ONLY…" He fell face down on her lap. She was about to protest, but the chill of his torso frightened her. "Help…need to get warm…Rock…"

"Easy…. I….I…" She shook out of shock over what had just happened.

"Promise me." He uttered. "Find Sa…." His voice trailed off as he shivered in her lap.

**---------**

** Random: 10 points to anyone who remembers what a Weeble is :D Ahh... memories of childhood toys. **


	9. Blood

_**Author's note: Sorry this took so long. I was having some horrible days, which caused writer's block. I hope this makes up for the long delay between updates. Thanks for the support as always. Reviews are so awesome and the best medicine.**_

_**-x-x-xx--x-x-x-x-x-x**_

Fighting the early signs of fatigue, Sam waited in the same grungy motel recliner his brother had occupied hours earlier, waiting with the same trepidation that his brother had. It was difficult wondering where your brother was with no clue to go on. Part of Sam felt this was punishment for his disappearing act this evening. For some reason, this case seemed to divide them since the beginning. Sam couldn't help but feel responsible, at least in a small way. He had found the case and knew the being in a courthouse was risky for his brother. He almost passed the info onto Bobby and looked for other avenues for the Winchester's attention. Shaftner County wasn't exactly a large jurisdiction, so it wasn't likely that Dean would have been recognized as a wanted man, but they couldn't take chances. He found an alternate, covert way in for Dean that would give him uncensored access to the building, as long as his brother didn't mind being the janitor.

When they first heard of the multiple beheading of anyone found innocent in the courthouse with the always undetected murderer, Sam never imagined the hunt would extend for a week and a half. Admittedly, seeing Ron Potter's name associated with a case was perfect. Although, he and Ron were had only met once and he found him to be distasteful, Sam relied on his college connection to get him in the door. A few pre-planned run-ins and some legal jargon later, he had been embraced by the defense with delight and welcome. He even sat behind the defense table with Ron, helping to guide a man to freedom. Instead, Sam felt he had led the man to death and led his brother to ridicule.

Dean, on the opposite end of the spectrum, had become the named nemesis of Ron in short order. It had led to Dean telling Sam, "One more cell phone call while the man is in the can, and I swear I am going to stick that phone in his keister!" In fact, Sam wondered if Ron planned his phone calls to belittle Dean. A thought that was getting Sam close to the edge of reason and close to sticking the phone in an orifice. Ron's little pranks and messes were supreme jackass behavior in Sam's book- uncalled for and unjustified. Sam's ire rose again.

At every turn, the brothers had been separated, battered, and blocked as they worked to find a resolution and got nowhere. Countless interviews with "I ain't seen nothing" as the common response were useless to the pursuit of a resolution. Having experienced the phenomenon, Sam found his own eyewitness account would garner the same response. His own experience left him with little to go on. Plus, it afforded Ron an opportunity to attack Dean.

Sighing, Sam realized nothing had gone as expected and now his brother was off doing who knows what with who knows whom. Dean had to be bothered by today. He knew his brother well, even if he tried to hide it. Some part of Dean was waiting for Sam to come to his defense, but the undercover personas had locked in Sam's inability to do that, even when he wanted to make Ron eat a huge helping of crow. Excitedly, he had a bit of vengeance in his brother's honor tonight at the restaurant- Hell, not just for Dean, Sam enjoyed it too. Plus, Sam wondered what Martin meant about Sue and why this death would disturb her. At least it was a new person to question and any movement was good movement at this point. Suddenly, the thought struck Sam, a thought of a waiting for a new trial to find someone innocent. Groaning aloud, he could not hide is disapproval.

The threat of exhaustion loomed to overtake him as he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind. Instead, he imagined Dean drinking it up at some bar outside of this dry county. The trip would have taken him some time to beyond of county lines. As the time passed, Sam found it harder not to let his anger, almost an aberrant animosity, grow in increments. He tried hard to keep at an even keel. When Sam last checked his cell phone, the 1:00 a.m. reading probably meant that Dean was closing down the bar and sleeping it off in the backseat of the Impala.

He lighted his cell again, noting another hour had passed, and began dialing Dean once more. He debated whether he should ream Dean out or cut him some slack. His uneasiness and empathy made him lean towards the latter when his annoyance made him lean towards the former. His conscience waged the deliberation as the countless phone rings twittered. He didn't even notice as the steady ringing pulsated against his ear for the hundredth time without a pick up.

Somewhere between thought, his own internal debate, and worry, Sam realized his latest attempt to contact Dean was just as fruitless as the countless others he had attempted this night. Ending the call, Sam could only hope that his brother would call him soon. Jutting his phone back to his jeans, Sam picked up one of the law books he had obtained during the trial. Concentration had eluded him all this night, but perhaps he could keep his mind off other things, if he just tried hard enough. He started again at pages and began to read the same several passages again and again with his brain failing to retain or comprehend the simplest words on the page. Vacillating between sleepiness and alertness, his eyes closed gently as the battle to stay alert among the tedious waiting, wasting minutes was lost. Although his will wanted him to remain in the conscious world, his body commanded rest. The book slipped from his fingers and slid into his lap.

He had barely drifted when a frantic pounding hammered upon the motel door. Bolting awake, Sam jarred and the book slammed down upon the floor. At first Sam wasn't even sure had heard pounding at all, but pondered if he imagined it in some remnant of a dream. A second round of rapid and frantic pounds threw that thought to the scrapper. However, a third round of an unfamiliar pounding resounded in the room, sending Sam into cautious mode. He grabbed his gun and stuffed it in his back of his jeans as a precaution. The only thing he knew was that wasn't Dean's knock, so he prepared for any surprise.

Sam cracked the door with his hand perched near his side for a quick gun withdrawal. A shaking, blood covered frame appeared within the small slit. "Sam??? Please, help me!" It didn't take more than a glance for Sam to swing the door open further. "Sue?" The mystery to find her at his room was quickly replaced by horror as the door opening grew wider. Sue supported his brother's blood drenched frame Dean's condition could easily be described as death warmed over. "DEAN!" Ruse and pretense fell to the wayside, as Sam's concern for him became immediate.

Grasping under his brother's arm, Sam rocked Dean against him. "SUE! What happened!???" His voice sounded forceful, while his touch was tender. He supported his brother into a collapse against him. Sam's arm wrapped around Dean to guide him to the motel bed. Sticky cold wetness slid upon Sam's hands. "OH GOD...what happened?"

"Ughh… attack….justi…." Dean managed to slur out. Beyond that Dean was still awake but not responding. He half grunted something in an attempt. It was Sue, still a bit shell shock and confused that answered. "He...we...were attacked. This Thing. ... Sam? ... What was.." She stood dumbstruck.

Sam stopped her questions flatly. "Later!. Shut the door!" Barking the abrupt commands, he hated taking the time to deal with Sue. Moreover, he hated anything that didn't focus on helping Dean for the moment. Surprisingly, she followed his orders without question.

He had gently cradled Dean down upon the mattress and rolled his brother on his belly. Pulling Dean's t-shirt up, Sam couldn't tell where the wound and bleeding began. "Sue! Get that bowl and fill it with warm water and grab me towels. I need the kit beside the sink too. Again, she obeyed.

Sam wrinkled his brow in concern. Besides the obvious blood covering Dean, he noticed the black oozing of ectoplasm. He quickly realized Dean had hunted without him. "Damn it, Dean I should have been there."

Dean heard the words and wished he had the energy to fight with Sam. He wanted Sam there, but his brother was too busy in his new law life. Instead, he half-groaned a disapproving grunt at Sam's statement. Even that small effort caused his energy to wane.

Sam turned Dean's head sideways to upon a pillow. "Dean, can you hear me? How you doing?"

"Sss…………aaa……mm," Groaned out of almost unmoving lips. Dean's eye rolled back as the fight to stay awake became more difficult.

The conversation, if it could be called a conversation, ended when Sue returned with Sam's requested items. As soon as Sue retrieved the bowl and kit, Sam grabbed and opened their special first aid kit. Pulling a pair of scissors, he cut away the fabric of Dean's shirt to get the best access to the gash. Throwing the instrument and kit aside, he grabbed the water and towels from Sue. He gently cleared away enough red to see the gash into his brother's back. A slender razor like cut began at the base of Dean's neck and progressed down to the middle back. Just passed Dean's spine the thin laceration became a deeper wound that split down to the lower back near Dean's side. The thin opening had congealed but the deeper section still poured fresh blood. He estimated it was at least an inch deep. He knew he could dress the wound easily, but the bleeding had to stop.

"What… What are you going to do? Hospital…he needs…." Sue stuttered in amazement as Sam took charge of the situation. Sam ignored her questions and statements, more concerned for the task at hand.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"About...30…40 minutes." Sue shuttered.

"I tried to keep him warm...but blood...he kept bleeding...kept."

"It's okay... just stay calm. You did good by getting him here."

"He wouldn't go… to the…he wanted to come here. We need to get him to the hospital. "

"No…" Dean groaned out and lurched his body up a few centimeters.

"Shh…Easy……don't move." Sam applied gentle pressure to coax Dean back to rest.

Practicing the skills handed down to him by his father, Sam check his brother's vitals. His blood pressure was higher and his breath was raspier than Sam wanted. He calmly reassured Dean, although he knew fear was not the primary reason for the elevated readings. "Dean. It's not that bad. Clean slice. I need to stop the bleeding…okay. Then a couple row of stitches and good as new." Sam didn't need to say that it was going to hurt; Dean knew pain all too well. Plus, he didn't have any morphine or painkillers to give him.

He wanted more than anything for Dean to respond, but no response came. He tried to clean the wound gently and quickly. As soon as he wiped away the blood flow, it quickly would spill out again. When he was satisfied, he had cleaned the wound more than adequately; he covered the area with a clean towel. He pressed his full weight against the opening as if his sheer will would cease his brother life blood from draining away. When Sam pressed, Dean arched as if a cold wind had just gripped his body.

A claret-red hue saturated the bright white towel within a minute. Sam's brow glistened with a worry sweat. Grabbing another towel he applied pressure again. The wound would be easy to fix, but he had to get the bleeding under control. The next terrycloth h began to soak through. "DAMN IT! Dean….. Please… "


	10. Fault

ON, TOUGH GUY!" The pleading was evident in Sam's yelling. He swallowed his own panic and forced his tone to soften. He didn't need a panicked Dean. "Come on. I'm going to stop his now…I'm sorry, this is going to hurt!" Sam grabbed a clean down and shoved his full weight at the opening.

True to Sam's word, Dean felt a stab of pain, as if he had sustained the opening anew. He groaned and gasped at the pressure. "ARGGGHHHHHHHH" It was the strongest vocalization to be utter since Sam started his treatment. Blinding hot pain seemed to radiate through his body.

"You're hurting him Sam!" Sue shrieked.

"QUIET! I know, but bleeding has to stop. Stop distracting me. I need to focus on him."

"I'm calling an ambulance."

"No. Not yet." His voice ordered again.

Below Sam's weight, he felt his brother shift in an attempt to stop Sue too. Dean uttered nonsense syllables, but Sam knew he was trying.

"Easy. Just relax." When Sam removed the towel covering, he could fully view the open wound. Waiting excruciating minutes, Sam stared at the slice in his brother's back, half expecting more blood to flow. However, the outpour had ceased. He regretted the pain he had caused his brother, but the results had been more than worth it. Sam exhaled relief and wiped the sweat from his brow with the long sleeve of his flannel.

"It's okay, Dean. I got it to stop. Just hang with me a bit longer. I just need to stitch ya up, then you can sleep." Truthfully, Sam feared letting Dean sleep just yet. "This is…this is gonna hurt a bit. Actually, more than a bit. OKAY?" Not that he needed to remind his brother of that or required permission, but as long as Dean groaned a response, it was good enough for Sam.

"Ugmmfm"

"You're…..yy-y-yo- you're not going to stitch him yourself!?!"

"Yeah. …uh… Sue…" Sam noticed the pale sickly expression on her face. "Uh… why don't you go clean up in the shower and let me take care of this."

"Who the hell are you TWO!!! I want … I …" Her voice stopped as she watched Sam retrieve the instruments required.

"Later. Just go ahead and I'll find you some clean clothes when I finish." Sam threaded a long, sharp needle in preparation. That seemed to be enough of an incentive to end her argument. "Shower's over there." Sam pointed with the needle in his hand. She fled into the safety of the bathroom. Sam swore he heard her tossing cookies as the door closed.

"We'll Dean, you sure know how to pick 'em."

A small noise sputtered out.

"Was that a laugh?!" Sam spirits perked up at the levity of the noise.

"BWERETCH," Dean responded. Sam wasn't sure what his brother had just said, but he knew that tone well. It was definitely Dean's shut up tone. He would have laughed, but a painful moan shortly followed. "Urgmmmmm."

"I know.. I know..easy now...easy. Just let me." The sharp point entered into the first corner of the slash. Sam allowed Dean's body to flinch before he made the next piercing into the raw injured flesh.

"Ummm." Dean spouted weakly as his spine arched.

With each binding, Sam attempted to be as gentle as possible and found himself wincing with his brother's groans and flinches of pain response. "I'm sorry. I wish I had something to ease the pain. Dean? Dean….Dean, I think I should get you to a hospital. I wouldn't let the cops.."

"Naoooumm."

Sam nixed the thought and took a peek at this brother's pale face. Eyelids fought to stay awake, but Sam found reassurance in the sparkle of Dean's eyes. Those eyes still flashed with fight, allowing Sam to let the issue drop. "Okay. I almost got it." Sam scruffed Dean hair. "Hear me? Just a little more to go."

"Ooummk."

"I'm sorry. I have a few more stitches.

As the needlework progressed across Dean's back, the groans and involuntary reactions grew less intense and less frequent. His shoulder blades were starting to rise and fall in a steady pattern of breathing. Weariness had taken over and sleep was trying to overrule any spasm of pain.

"Dean? Still with me? I'm almost finished. Just a few more." True to his word, Sam finished quickly. His final step was to cover his brother with a blanket. As soon as he completed his medical treatment, he swung off the bed to hunker in the floor, staring into his brother's slumberous, battle drained, injury exhausted face. "Sleepy? Huh?"

"Saaaammm."

"It's okay. Go ahead. Rest."

"sss…ssssaam." Dean attempted to raise his head, which only resulted in a slight wobble.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me later. Just lie still."

"Ssshe..shem..Sue."

"I took care of her. It's okay. She said you saved her. I think you have some gratitude to receive when you feel better."

"Saammm. sis…" A hushed whisper mixed with a pained exhale and a hiss.

"You're safe right now. Dean, why did it attack you after all this time?"

No answered was returned, not even a half understandable mumble. His brother's eyes had closed as the pain had eased enough for a labored sleep.

-x-x-xx-xx-x

Glancing back at his sleeping sibling at least six times before he crossed the room to his duffel and at least six more times on his way to the closed bathroom door, Sam felt like an overprotective mother cat. But, he wasn't going to apologize for it. Knocking, he waited for the shaken woman to respond. Silence lingered for a moment before Sam spoke. "Sue. It's over. You can come out. I have some clothes for you."

She peeked out of a crack in the door. Her system was a bit overloaded with the discovery of things that go bump in the night and seeing a battle wound field dressed. That was enough to shake anyone's belief in a single night. She grabbed the offered items and reclosed the door. Within a few minutes, she opened the doorway. Dressed in one of Sam's t-shirts and a pair of sweat pants, the baggy clothes took away the harsh edge of the legal world.

"Doing okay?"

"Am I …I don't know. Is.. is he… 

"Sleeping." Sam reassured her, although he did glance back at his brother twice as she asked. "Sit down. I need some information." His open palm welcomed her to the small kitchen table . She grabbed a seat, afraid her legs would give out on her under Sam's questioning at this point. It had been a long night.

Taking a seat close enough to appear like a close intimate couple in a secluded restaurant, Sam held her in a firm, yet comforting gaze. "I want you to tell me everything. Did you see the attacker!?"

"Yes…..it… oh Sam.. I think I am going crazy…please who…?"

He realized she was about as comfortable with this as someone who just sat on a cactus. Exhaling, he forced himself to smile.

"And… and why is the janitor coming…."

Another sigh and Sam began. "Dean's my brother." The odd look on her face and the way she stopped talking almost stopped Sam's voice. "Dean and I, we hunt things.Things like you saw tonight. We go in undercover and try to help people. It's a long story, but we're the good guys. We want to stop this thing. Please." Sam's eyes widened in softness. His face instantly appeared five years younger and he regained innocence about him. "Please…this thing, it hurt my brother and it's killed so many others."

"I… I know. My sister."

Abruptly Deans' words sprang to mind. His brother was trying to tell him about the sister. He glanced back at the still quiet sleeper. "Saammm. sis!"

"What?"

"Dean was trying to tell me what happened."

"He doesn't give up does he?"

"No, he doesn't." Sam smile widely, but returned back to the investigation. "What happened to your sister?"

"She was the first one….the first one to be….K.. killed."

"What was she accused of?"

"NOTHING! She was just in the courthouse."

"So she wasn't on trial?"

"NO, DON'T YOU EVER SAY SHE.." Anger fumed her every word.

"I don't mean to imply anything. Dean didn't do anything either. It's just the pattern was…"

"There's a pattern?"

"Thought there was. The creature, which is a spirit, judging from the ectoplasm."

"Ectoplasm… that is really Real???"

"Afraid so." Sam chuckled. "So far, it's attacked anyone found innocent for the past 6 months, but Dean and your…"

"Jan."

"Jan?"

"My sister."

"We'll then, Dean and Jan were not in the pattern. How did..uh..did..?" Sam wanted to ask her about her sister's death, but still tried to have some tact.

"The same way…but…they never found her…uh….her….…her body was left in the courthouse. They never found her killer… Do you think this ghost…GOD, I can't believe I am saying this, could a ghost have…"

Sam wanted to tell her the world was safe, but he couldn't lie. "Did you see what attacked you?"

"Ohh… Sam…it, I am going crazy… I …… it looked like the Justice Stature, only…it was terrifying. It was…" Her voice cracked in panic.

"It's okay. I'm guessing a sword made the slash in Dean's back."

"He just got up and took charge …then…once we were out."

"What happened before the attack?"

"We were talking and…"

Sam noticed she was uncomfortable. "Dean got a bit too…uh.. frisky?"

"No! I turned him down and he smarted me off. Not that I blame him."

"He has a way of doing that. One of the quickest most impertinent minds in the world."

"I screamed at him, and still he protected me…I was so angry… I." Her voice gasped.

"WHAT?!!"

"I screamed that I wanted him to be punished. I called it to him…IT'S MY FAULT…OH MY G… This is my fault."


	11. Discovery

**Author's Note: Dedicated to Anastasia Beaverhousen (you know who you are!) ...So, you won't bitch at me for not updating. **

** 2nd dedication to my Twisters. I am still having an iDEANity crisis and I might need to question my SAMity.**

**3rd dedication to my Newbies. I love you!  
**

**4th dedication for any one reading or reviewing this. Love you all.**

**-x-x-xx-x-xx- **

"You called it!?" Sam tried to keep his emotions in check. If Sue had intended to summon the spirit, she wouldn't be as freaked about it. "Wait...how did you do to call it?"

"I...I..I said he needed to be punished... and...and this thing... What if I...what if I..." Her eyes widened until the black pupil almost eclipsed her irises. "What if I... called it...and it killed my sister...I could.."

There was enough guilt in the room to swallow them all whole. Sam felt guilty for not being around to stop Dean from going off on his own and Sue felt guilt for Dean's attack and her sister's attack. Sam wondered if it was too confidential that the spirit should up after this woman's tirade. Dean had been in the building a million times without incident, yet tonight he is attacked. For some reason, the spirit broke pattern. The tension was thick like a tar pit, threatening to overtake the conversation. Calling on all the reserve of kindness he had, Sam forced himself to hold on to rationality. "Sue.." His voice was soft and consoling as his hand tapped down on her trembling fingers. "Sue, were you there every time some was killed?"

"No...no, just... just Dean." The quiver in her voice made it almost impossible to speak.

"So, you can't have called it every time. Were you upset with your sister or any of the others?"

"GOD NO! I...I..."

"Then stop feeling guilty. All that matters is that Dean is okay and we stop this thing. I need to get to the courthouse and take care of the evidence of his attack, but I can't leave him." Sam's can't leave was one of the biggest lie he ever told. The truth was he didn't want to leave.

"We need to get him to a hospital, Sam."

"No, he would be more pissed at me than.."

Why... why can't...he didn't do anything wrong."

"The sheriff is already nosy enough. If he thinks Dean was near the attack, he could find..." Sam realized he said too much. At this point he had little to lose. If he kept her in the dark, she could run to the sheriff anyway. "A while back, Dean stopped a creature, but it used him to take the blame for its killing."

"But, he's innocent." The word rolled off almost in defense of Dean's actions.

A smile spread across Sam's face. His brother's charm seemed to have at least made an impression on Sue. For some reason, he felt Dean would receive gratitude from her in the future. "Yeah, he is. So, we can't let anyone know about this." Feeling his explanation was sufficient, along with Sue's obvious attraction and gratitude to Dean, he swung from his chair to check on his brother.

As he crouched down to peer into the sleeper's face, Sam first noticed the peach hue had returned to his brother's face. Careful not to disturb him, Sam eased his hand to check the pulse, hoping it had improved too. The coolness of his fingers caused Dean to shiver. The reassurance of a steady pulse and the warmth of his brother's skin loosened Sam's anxious muscles. Again, his brother shivered and let out a deep sigh followed by a flutter of his eyes.

Recoiling his fingers quickly, Sam laughed.

"What?" Sue became alarmed, then confused by Sam's continued chuckle.

"He always hates to be disturbed when he was sleeping. It makes him grumpy." Sam acknowledged her question but kept his gaze on the still fluttering eyes.

"Uh…What?"

"It's a good sign, he wants to sleep." He gently pulled the covers over Dean's shoulder. "Okay, you can sleep as long as you want." Sam didn't expect a response as his brother had faded back to sleep almost the second the cold fingertip left his skin. It was the first time Sam felt comfortable that Dean was going to be okay with a few days' rest and the first time he felt comfortable to leave him to cover their tracks. Finally, he turned to her. "I need to borrow your car and I need you to stay with him. I don't want him to be alone right now. Just in case….in case…."

"I know," she said before she left her seat, crossed to Sam, and touched his shoulder. Dropping the keys in his hand, she grimaced in understanding.

-x-xx-x

The Shaftner courthouse took on a new chill for Sam. The shivers did not emanate from the wind coming through the doorway as he entered, but from the memory of his wound he had patched up earlier. Not only was this the place that had driven a wedge between them, it had almost permanently divided them. If his brother was just a tad sloppier, if his brother was not so alert to danger, if his brother wasn't as good a hunter, he would have lost him. Worse, the last moment they had together had been tense and hurt his brother. He would have never forgave himself, if Dean's last thought and moment had been twanged with bitterness and misunderstanding.

He had never told his brother, but not saying goodbye to his father has sickened him. Even the passing of time had not taken away that regret. He wished he would have just stopped before leaving Dean's hospital left the room- just look back once and smiled. That would have been enough. Then, John would have known he didn't hate him. If he had known, he would have told his Dad that he loved him, but they were both too stubborn to say it. Tears formed his eyes. He hoped his father was in a place to know that now. It was a mistake he was not going to ever make with Dean.

Forcing himself to leave the doorway, he proceeded with shotgun loaded and ready. He waited for any sign that he wasn't alone. After he had progressed a few feet from the entrance, the earpiece in his ear clicked like a thousand overactive hyper crickets. "DAMN IT." Glancing at the EMF meter tucked inside his jacket, Sam was surprised that the reading was off the scale. No matter how far he stalked down the hall, the reading never wavered. He ignored the flickering lights and rapid popping in his ear, being ever wary of the cold he felt before his own attack. His mind instead focused on the splatter beneath his feet. When he was checking the meter, his foot had discovered droplets of blood- Dean's blood. He forced the image of the gasp in his brother's back from his mind. Sam never had much of a taste for the gory side of hunting, but the sensation was a million times worse when it was your family.

Somehow with all the remorse running in his head, Sam made it without incident to Sue's door. He hoped the ghost couldn't sense his feelings right now, or he might be soon joining Dean. The door squeaked open and Sam flushed his body inside.

Compared to the bloodbath gore in the hall, the office looked relatively untouched. The only item out of place was his brother's jacket on the floor. He slithered further in. Suddenly, the EMF went quiet. His guard eased in the haven of the office, and he walked normally to retrieve Dean's favorite leather jacket. His large hands crumpled the well worn leather as if they were saying thank you for Dean making it through this battle. He felt heaviness in the jacket pocket, and jutted his hand inside. Filtering the items by touch, he knew the EMF meter, the Impala's keys, and the cell phone were stored within and left behind before his brother's battle.

Pulling the cell phone out, he remembered the voice mails he had left countless times- the ones where he was trying to be cool asking where Dean was, the ones where he was accusatory and asking were Dean was, and finally the angry ones where he was asking where Dean was. That didn't even count the times he hung up. He opened the flip and called up the voice mail.

Listening to the sound of his own voice and realizing his emotions were not as well hidden as he hoped, he began to delete them one by one. "God, I sound like an idiot"

After the last of his own messages, one started to play. "DEAN!" The voice screamed. "This is Mr. Taylor." Sam was slightly jarred hearing his brother's supervisor sound so gruff. "Ron Potter has filed a complaint against you AGAIN!. How many times have I told you to keep your yap shut and do your freaking job! If you know what is good for you boy, you will mind your Ps and Qs!" BEEP

"Dean! I got your message. I don't care if you say you didn't key Ron's car. As far as I know, no one else has a problem with Ron. So, I want to see your ass in my office tomorrow morning." Beep. Sam noted this message was at least a few days old.

"DEAN! Taylor here. Ron tells me you called him a Jack off who couldn't find his ass in the dark using both hands. This is the tenth time I have had to address this issue. I am docking your pay for the damage to his car!" Beep.

"Boy, get your head out of your ass. Ron said..." Sam couldn't listen to anymore and closed the phone quickly.

With a sigh, he felt even more regret. "Damn it, Dean. Why didn't you tell me Ron was treating you this bad!" He was infuriated- infuriated at himself for not realizing things that were happening under his nose. His brother had kept going, just like always. This town had treated Dean like shit and he was so caught up in the moment, he had allowed it. Everyone around his brother, had treated him as less than human- more like a pile of poo on the bottom of your shoe. He told himself during the hunt, they needed to protect Dean by separating and keeping him undercover. All he had done was leave Dean alone to be attacked by every human and inhuman thing in this sad excuse of a town. "I'm sorry, Dean." His hazel eyes flashed wide pain and anguish. He pressed the texture of the jacket once more and allowed himself that brief moment of frustration and self condemnation.

-x-x-x-xx-xx-x-xx-xx-x-x-xx-

Soiled hands plunged the mop bucket and mop into the wash basin. It had been a long time since physical labor included cleaning a building, but Sam had spent the last hours doing what Dean had every day for over a week. He was careful not to leave any evidence of the attacks. The red hue on his hands diluted away down the sink drain with all mementos of that night. Unzipping a set of coveralls, it felt good to be finished. It felt good to be able to see Dean.

Once the uniform had been shed, revealing his street clothes, he donned his jacket, and hid his shotgun. Sam left the janitor closet as people had already started to shuffle in and out of courtroom as if nothing had ever happened here. He dragged his tied feet upon the clean floor, making his way to the exit.

"SAM!" A hand gripped him and whirled Sam's tired body around.

"Ugh… Martin. Sorry, I didn't see ya."

"How are you feeling? You look spent."

"Tired, but just thought I would see how things were going."

"You missed it, got another victory this morning."

"What?"

"Yeah…Just got a man free of a rape charge. It feels good after yesterday."

"Uh.. yeah..who are you…"

"I've know the family for years. His poor wife is sick and she had to see him in court like that. It's over now."

"MARTIN!"

"Sam, are you okay? You look spooked."

"Where are they…." Before Sam could complete his sentence a shrill womanly scream reverberated down the hallway corner. "Damn it." Sprinting as fast as his tired worn legs could muster, he raced towards the voice.

"No… Steve!" Please, leave my husband alone!"

Skidding to a stop, Sam got there it time to see the spirit and pull his weapon. Salt flew. However, it was not before the vengeful apparition struck, beheading not only the innocent man, but his wife protector. Two orbs rolled on the floor when the bodies collapsed on each other.


	12. Reunion

-x-x-x-x--

""Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You with me?"

"What?...ummm." Dean smacked his lips a few times before his eyes focused. "Sammy?"

"Yeah. Doing okay?"

"Ummm…" Hazily, he groaned. "ummm…yeeaah."

"I need to get you up….You got to eat something."

Help me up."

"I got ya..easy."

Dean tried to push up himself off the bed, finding pain shooting up his entire upper body. "Okay, don't help me up… Don't"

"Yeah, you said that a couple of days ago too." Sam gently nudged his brother to the new position and placed him on a stack of pillows.

Pain riveted in angry pulses through Dean. "GG..GGod."

"Sorry. Do you think you can eat?"

"I am kinda hungry."

"Sam… Sue's sister… did you find…"

"I know. You told me about it 4 days ago."

"No…uh.. no way… I just figured it out last night."

"Dean, you've been in and out for four days. You got hurt five nights ago."

"Huh… I…"

"You scared the hell out of me."

"Sam..I haven't been…" Dean hissed in pain. "Oh…crap… this hurts….I would have needed water and the restroom long before then… I'm okay."

"Yeah…well.." Uncomfortable feelings with the idea of thinking about five days ago set into Sam. "I really don't want to even think about that….just stay away from the ice bucket...uh….Uhhh…" Sam scratched his head.

"Sammy…what?" Dean looked at his brother in confusion, not really knowing if he was joking or telling the truth.

"Uh…Well…uh…While you were sleeping I dug up some intel that might be useful." Sam grabbed a wrapped sandwich from the deli bag on the table and handed it to Dean. His brother took it half heartedly. "And I got you some painkillers." After jogging to the frig, Sam returned with an ice cold beer. Twisting it open, he presented it to Dean.

"Sam…you know this is a DRY county!" Accepting the beer, Dean knew this was a peace offering from his little brother.

"Yeah…But this is medicinal."

"Sam Winchester. You would have made a fine doctor."

"Good enough to stitch you up….Just shut up and eat."

"Hmm…" He took a much smaller and more careful bite then his normal gluttonous way of devouring food. "Go on, Dr. Feelgood."

"Oh.. Geez..uhhh..well.. for one thing…I saw the spirit."

"Sammy!" His bolt of surprise sent new twinges of pain into him. "SHhi…gooooo.."

"Easy. Easy….just take it easy…I'm fine…uh.., but it killed two other people. A defendant and his wife that protected him.

"Son of a.."

Sam wasn't sure if Dean was cursing his news or the pain. "Yeah. Had to stow my gun before Martin saw it. THEN…spent some quality time with the sheriff . Anyway, they sealed off the courthouse."

"Sharp… bout time. Only took those Shitlocks 6…uh…7 months to do that."

"You mean Sherlocks?"

"No…those cops definitely are crap."

"Shessh…Bad joke, but at least you're feeling better."

"Uhh."

"I did a little research since the ghost is taking on the form of Lady Justice, which is based on Justitia, the Roman Goddess of Justice. Justitia's attributes parallel those of the Hellenic deity Themis.

"Themis…hmmm…Explains the met his"

"Yep… It was telling us it was providing justice when it killed its victims. But, I still can't figure out why it attacked Jan and you without being accused."

"Sam?

"Sue's sister! Jan Billups was killed without a trial…Her body was found in the courthouse corridor when the morn…"

"Sammy…"

"What?!?'

"Huha… I can't believe…it's nice to know you do need me for something…"

"Dean? I never said…"

"You haven't figured it out."

"What?!?'

"Jan is the spirit. I was trying to tell you."

"How did.."

"We'll, the thing attacked me after Sue went a bit nutty on me. And her sister had a thing for the Justice image."

"She did?"

"Uh.uhmm…I saw her paintings in Sue's office. She had a real thing for the image of Justice. And what form does our freak of the week take!"

"Justice." Sam nodded sheepishly. "Huh!" He scoffed.

"What?" Shifting slight, Dean abandoned his meal, but continued to sip the most incredible beer ever. At least Dean thought of it that way.

"It's just funny, how we both had to bring different pieces to get this far. It's nice to know you have someone to trust." Sam opened the door for his brother. Not expecting an exchange, however, Sam waited a moment just in case. "There's only one problem."

Dean looked at his brother oddly.

"When Jan was killed, they cremated her remains. Except for one thing, they couldn't find her head."

"Son of a bitch."

-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-xx-x


	13. Ties that Bind

-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-xx-x

"Sure you're up for this?" Sitting in his familiar seat and hurdling the items he had just purchased at the corner store into the back of the Impala, Sam looked over at his healing and obviously still not up to par brother. He couldn't help but notice that Dean shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat.

"We'll unless you have a better idea." As his back cracked, a sting of pain traveled up him that he tried to pass off as not that bad. "Courtroom is deserted, we know who it is, what it is, and we have a good plan to…

"Yeah…okay…just."

"Just what?" He shot Sam a knowing and daring glance.

Sam sighed. That particular look he knew well. He never won any argument with Dean once he got that look- the "you _are not changing my mind, so stow the crap_." Look. "Okay, so this is still a bad idea."

"Again, got any?"

"But we have never tried to do a binding spell before and we don't even know if it will work."

"Still waiting on that better idea, Sammy. If we can contain her to a room…uh…uh..uh..an object..then we can stop her from hurting people. Besides, do you know where the head is? Huh…didn't think so……So unless you have a photon gun, Egon Spengler, I don't see we have much choice. ""

"Well, okay…there… Venkman. Forget what I said about you not being up to this… At least your smart mouth is back to 100."

"Ha.."

"But, doing a summoning spell, then a binding spell is going to be a new one for us. This may go bad fast."

"Good, Bad, I'm the Guy With The Gun"

-x-x-xx-xx-xx-xx-x-xx-x-xx-x-x

Dean and Sam were grateful that no one was around the courthouse anymore to ask questions or impede their work. Still Sam was more than alert of dangers as he crouched at Sue's Office locked door. "I would feel better if we had more than Jan's paintings for a personal object." Sam grimaced as he picked the office door. Deciding it was best for him to take the lead should anything happen. He wasn't entirely sure about this plan, much less let Dean face danger.

"Well, she labored over those and took the Justice form, so…it's all we got. And the spell says we have to bind her to something personal, so she becomes attached to it. Lock away the paintings…we got this one taken care of."

The pick plunged into the lock mechanism forcing the tumblers to align and open under Sam's skillful hands."We're in."

"Oh….just like I taught you… nice and easy."

"Come on.." Sam wanted to yank Dean in, but thought better of it. Luckily, his brother was right behind him when he entered the room. "I'll get them." Quickly he sprinted to the paintings and removed them one by one. "She was an incredible artist."

"Yeah. Told you they were awesome… something so real, creepy, and…"

"Dean? Are you giving an art critique?"

Scratching his head, Dean looked sheepish. "No… they are just cool that's all."

"Nice to know you appreciate more than chili fries and Resident Evil movies."

"Come on! Let go. Everybody's a comedian."

"Where do you want to trap her?"

"Basement?"

"Yeah, cause this place isn't creepy enough… lets go to the basement!" Sam shook his head.

"Wuss….bwak…bwak..Chicken!"

-x-x-x-xx-xx-xx-xx-x

Bending upon the gritty floor, Sam looked disgusted as his hand slipped in the grime. The youngest Winchester scooted around to draw a perfect salt circle. Black grime covered his hands and knees. Sam spread out the linens they took from the motel as the basis for his alter. "I like that you are just standing there watching as I crawl around on all fours."

"I am so not touching that line… and I am supervising."

Sam placed all the items upon the cloth, readying the double spells. Aligning the candles, lavender, wormwood, coals, and personal items on the Winchester slapdash altar, he was surprised what they could come up with on budget.

Dean stared off in the darkness as if he was deep in thought, while Sam lighted incenses and candles. Really, he was trying to let a back spasm not alarm Sam.

"Dean? You want to step inside the salt circle…uh….please."

Side stepping into the circle, Dean tried to lower himself to Sam's level. "Uh…no… I think I prefer you standing, if this goes bad… I don't want you at a disadvantage."

Merely responding with a classic Dean Winchester eye roll, he remained standing, listening to his brother recite something he half paid attention to. Even though the spell was his idea, Dean half paid attention to the first time Sam found it on the internet and told him about it,. Dean was just proud he didn't laugh as Sam rang the bell seven times to summon the spirit.

"We'll how long do you think it will take before…"

"Sam.. I would say, we have a new friend." Turning his head to the direction that Dean stood watching. "You don't think she remembers me do you…" Dean laughed nervously like he was just caught by a girl's father with his hand in the cookie jar. 'Hey… how you doing? Sam, think we could…uh…hurry this up… she is kinda staring at me."

The spirit twitched as it locked eyes with Dean in a strange otherworld staring contest. As unnerving as the creature's stare was, he never took his eyes off thing they had summoned. Still flashing the "I'm so innocent" smile, he hoped Sam bound soon. "Any day would be great Sam."

"You have a way with women. Why don't you charm her?"

"Funny…yeaah….." Dean muttered, "freakin' laugh riot."

Sam chuckled as he added sage and started to invoke the spirit binding spell. Waving the sage over the carefully place paintings, Sam watched as the bowl flashed, sealing the spell. "I think that's it."

"Good, cause I don't think she likes me."

Standing up and joining his brother's side, Sam patted his shoulder. "We'll if you were giving me that cheesy grin, I wouldn't like you either."

"Can we just go…NOW."

"Yeah, I'm finished. You can step out now."

"No, I think you need to go first."

"Wuss." Sam enjoyed getting his brother back for his earlier comment. "Come on!" Sam nudged his brother and they both watched as the spirit remained frozen, still staring at Dean. Stepping outside of the protection, the apparition still didn't make a move. "Hell…I think we actually did it."

"Good, can we go Sam…it's still looking at me."

-x-x-xx-xx-x-xx-x

The courthouse hallway echoes at the Winchesters strutted in unison after they descended the stairs from the basement. Sam wondered if it was a good time to apologize to Dean,

"So..uh.. Dean…earlier, when I got attacked..I…"

"What…I…uh..Man, you would have been a kickass lawyer."

A bit surprise, Sam stopped and looked at Dean. "Really!?"

Dean met Sam's glance fully, stopping to let the moment pass. "Hell yeah… freaking noggin of yours...uh…" He shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure if he could ask if Sam wanted to stay, if Sam wanted to be normal. Finally deciding that Sam's happiness was more important than what he wanted, he opened his mouth and sighed a cleansing breath. "When you were in that courtroom…uh…I…"

"Dean…I won't lie… I…"

"I know..it was comfortable….I…"

"Yeah…but, this….what we do.."

"Sam!" His brother yelled in interruption.

"Dean, I want you to listen…I know it bothered…"

"Sam, we have bigger issues at the moment…uh… does that spirit look familiar to you." Dean pointed down the hall.

As a set of chills set in his spine, Sam didn't even want to glance up, but he did. "Uh..this is not good."

"You think!!!!!! Sam, I still don't think she likes me much."

The Justice spirit waited for them at the end of the hallway.


	14. Someone to look up to

**Author's Note. Whew almost done with this one. Thanks for the reviews. They keep me going with my silliness. Love you all...Really (maybe more than I love the show). Enjoy and catch you all soon.**

** -x-xx-xx-xx-x-xx-xx-xx-x**

"Ugh…what now, Sammy."

"This was your idea."

"And you followed me….what were you thinking..." Dean snarked out despite the circumstances.

"Back away slowly…" Sam took one step back, forcing Dean to take a step with him..."Got your gun ready?"

"Oh yeah… That's right princess, I got a nice rock salt present for you."

"If we can keep it at bay until we get to one of the exits, we are home free. "

The spirit focused it hollow green eye slits like a camera lens, almost robotic yet predator. The neon green iris narrowed in completely taking over the pupil. She sized up the two men as if she was waiting for the precise moment to strike.

"Dean… I don't think she like us."

As they took three more steps back, hoping to make it to the back exit, the flags poles that adorned the back exit flew like Olympic javelins toward them. The air whooshed as the wooden skewers disturbed the air. Parting and dodging, the Winchesters avoided being human sis-ka-bobs by inches. A furious noise resounded as the apparition came at them full tilt. Dean fired the salty blast into the spirit's gut as the creature attempted to descend upon them. Screeching filled the empty courthouse hall.

Taking the momentary opportunity, they both sprinted for the back exit. Mere steps from escape, their nemesis returned. "She's not going to let us out. We have to get back to protection circle in the basement." They halted and ran down the same adjacent hallway that Sam has witnessed the couple be executed. He gulped at the memory, but his tenacity for this battle kept his mind on the danger at hand. "Dean, get to the door and go. I'll make sure you get there."

"Go Sammy. I'll cover you." Having faced this thing once before, Dean knew she was a bitch in battle. He wasn't going to leave Sammy to defend him.

"No. You move your ass and don't even think of arguing with me…GO NOW." Sam's voice shook with a force he seldom used. In fact, he had never known such power to his timbre before the events that night at the Devil's gate.

"Sam! ARGHG!" Taken aback by the harsh sound coming from his brother, Dean jolted. He didn't argue, but took off and grabbed Sam to follow him.

Sam shadowed close behind his brother, taking guard of their flanks and Dean taking watch of the path before them. Both men waited and watched for their attacker to reappear. They had progressed the hallway without incident until they reached the basement access door.

Sensing that her prey was alluding her incensed her anger further. The thick black ectoplasm dripped below her and covered the marbled floor. A tar like puddle oozed over the entire floor surface as she moved. The spirit's mad locks sparked as if they were alive with electric or wind, but no air blew through the empty hallway. Twitching in the ungodly way that seemed to be reserved for the dead, perhaps just to warn the universe that something obscene happened to this woman death, the woman flickered and took on a eerier green glow. The illumination sparked the hallway to light, reflecting the tint down on the slick black covered floor. Moving with the speed of a cougar, ready to devour its prey, she hurdled a new attack at the Winchesters. The spirit swooped down with her sword drawn ready to strike. Simultaneously, the items in the hall whirled in all directions. Portraits flew from the walls, chairs crashed in the hallway, and glass shattered and flew from the windows.

"SAM!"

"Got it" The rifle in Sam's hand aimed true and slammed the spirits forehead with a powdery stinging repellent. "She is persistent."

"Hell yeah… Move it." Dean yanked the door open so hard, a few stitches on his shoulder blade popped open. Ignoring the pain, he pulled Sam in behind him and slammed the door to close. His shoulder ached, but he closed it in time to hear objects clank, clutter, and smash upon the closed. "Come on." The sounds of their running footsteps echoed down the stairs. He started to tromp down the stairwell, leaving Sam to trail his footsteps.

Sam whirled around a few times, checking to see if they were followed in the cramped space. He shoved more shells in his weapon, watching behind him and before him carefully. As he looked at his brother's back, he noticed a red hue soaking through the white t-shirt, dribbling from Dean's upper shoulder. He was sure that the spirit had not yet drew blood this night and surmised the previous wound had opened during the battle. The fact that Dean had not expressed pain or had not favored the reinjured wound was a sure sign his brother was doing okay. The next sound Sam heard was the click of Dean quickly reloading his weapon in anticipation of another attack. Both Winchesters transgressed the stairs in mere second, heading for the safety of the altar, at least until they could come up with a new plan. As they entered the dank basement, the men skidded to a stop.

The deadly creature was already in wait for them. Her mighty sword drawn for retribution, calling for more blood.

"Oh… come on! You have got to be kidding me."

"Guess, it's that Dean Winchester charm that keeps her coming."

Ignoring his brother, Dean's newly loaded shotgun flung another barrage in defense. When the spirit dissipated, Dean yanked Sam to run. "GO..."

Dean's foot hit the edge of the circle and he whirled around to see the spirit reform near his brother's head. "No, Sammy!" He grabbed his brother's shoulders, pulling him back and down and toppling down inside the circle together with him. The spirit blade managed to only nick Sam's chin and he fumbled downward. Still the boys fell to the cold, vile, blackened floor. Dean's back thudded against the hard surface as Sam landed on top of his brother's torso. "ERGhhhkhhh." The move saved Sam's life, but broke the salt circle pattern- the only haven the Winchesters had.

"Dean…..Dean.." Sam swiftly recovered. "Bitch!" Sam screamed in the most gruesome tone as he unloaded a round into the charging spirit. Each round seemed to enrage her, increasing the strength of her attack and fury. She barreled towards them as Sam attempted to reload. Dean grabbed for anything to protect his brother. As the blade came down again it met one of the frame portraits from Sue's wall. The makeshift shield broke into shard of glass and canvas, but it was long enough for Sam to reload and aim.

The creature screamed before Sam could pull the trigger. His expulsion found air instead of the target. She twitched violently and screeched at a blinding pitch. Both men could only stare as she retreated into the darkness. Sam quickly repaired the salt ring. "Dean…Dean… are you okay?...Dean." Sam started to assess his brother.

"Check the circle….check…uggghh…." He rolled pain, holding his shoulder

"It's fine. I fixed it… Let me check you."

"Sam, watch for it to come back.…I'm…fine." Dean rolled in agony. The stitches that had popped before pulled new ones open during the fall. More sanguine hues stained his white t-shirt.

Ignoring Dean's command and platitudes that he was fine, Sam eased his brother up. He pulled the shirt out enough to peer at the wound. New drops of blood trickled down from the shoulder. "You pulled some stitches…….. What were you thinking!!!…You..."

Dean's hand grasped Sam's chin and wiped away blood from the thin slice. "I was thinking I like having you around."

"Dean? …uh…..uh…huh……Thanks." The sheepish tone that was signature Sam Winchester spilled over the thank you. He smiled apologetically at Dean.

"What are big brothers for…..so…uh…" Obviously uncomfortable with expressing anything else, Dean knew Sam and he were alright now. Whatever had kept them at odds disappeared in one single second. "…Okay…so…..yeah… so, why did our justice bitch freak like that?"

Sam looked confused, still wondering if now was the time to talk to Dean about the past weeks, but figured Dean needed more time to think it thorough. He let the moment pass and focused on the direction Dean had led him. "Don't know…do you think the binding spell worked…maybe connected her to the paintings. Just not in the way we expected."

"Maybe, but can we use them against her?" Dean rifled through the pieces of the demolished art work. He pulled the demolished wooden frame from the image. As the fabric canvas broke free from the frame a folded piece of newspaper fell from one of the corners. Dean eyed the paper curiously as he grabbed it, unfolded it, and began to read. A frail piece of newspaper flapped in his large hands. "Oh… Sammy….I….I'm sorry."

"What?... What is it?"

"I…" Dean didn't want to say anything to his brother. Sam had enjoyed being in the law world so much and now that was about to be crushed. "I know you…and I wanted to let you have this normal world too…so much…that I…." He didn't want to say he was willing to let Sam go and be normal again. It hurt him too much to say it.

"Dean, are you…"

"I think I know why she got pissed when she destroyed the painting….she was concerned about this…" Deciding it was best for Sam to read it for himself, he handed the paper clipping over.

"How old is this…."

"I'd say fairly old….it's about a very young teen, who was implicated in rape and murders….Sam, look at the picture. I know he's very young, but who does that look like?"

"Dean….it's…..Martin!!!"

"Yeah… Sam… I know you liked him, but…I think…"

Sam clasped the article as he read aloud in disbelief. "Local boy suspected of being connected to local rapes and murders…13 year old boy….beheadings…"

"And our ghost chic just happens to get her head removed…and takes up the same MO… Sam … I'm sorry … I know you liked him… you looked up to him….but..."

"It's okay Dean.…if….if this is true, we have two evils to stop… and I don't need to look up to Martin to have someone to have pride in…" Sam tapped his brother's shoulder lightly. "Grab those paintings… our ghost hasn't made a reappearance, let's get outta here before she decided she wants to give it another try."

-x-xx-x-xx-x-xx-x-xx-x-x-xx—xx-x-x-x-x-xx-


	15. Heads will roll

The ravaged skin and muscles, injured anew, screamed with an unending agony, sort of like a rotting throbbing tooth shooting pain deep within. Cracking and winching at the ache in his back, Dean refused to complain or given into the injury. Careful not to disturb the quiet of the room, he, instead, busied himself with the thrill of discovery. It had been hours since they had escaped the courthouse relatively unharmed. In Dean's book a few pulled stitches and pain were nothing compared to everything else in his totally messed up life. He didn't dwell on or particularly care why their justice apparition freaked and retreated when the painting was destroyed. As hunts went this was one powerful ghost bitch and whatever worked was fine by him. Since that hell's gate was opened, it seemed as if everything was more powerful and deadly or just more complicated. He was more than willing to use whatever means or method to bring down evil. In this case, if that meant he and Sam had to carry one of these works of art with them every time they went into the courthouse, we was more than willing to do it.

Dean's bowie knife carefully worked the joints of the remaining picture frame. Hoping that more evidence was hidden in the last two of the Justice paintings, he wanted enough to nail this guy, find the missing head, and get Sam back on the road. He took great care not to damage the art or any evidence within; mostly feeling Sue would want the remembrance of her sister. Sue's sorrow was more than enough to confirm how close to the sisters were. He could at least spare her the knowledge that her sister was the twisted horrific spectre that scared the beejesus out of her. There were some things better not known, but it seemed the Winchesters were the keepers of all things dark and ungodly.

"Phhtt." Feeling a bit annoyed by the quiet in the room, he huffed, sneaking a glance of his distracted, aloof brother. Sam had been quiet and a bit disinterested all the way back to the motel. After his brother found the recliner, he had merely flopped down and stared off for a while. No matter what Sam had said earlier, Dean knew that had to be hard to learn someone- a person you think was decent- had a few skeletons in the closet, in this case more like a few heads in the closet. Respecting that Sam need time to work things out, especially after something good was yet again yanked away from his brother. Dean knew his brother must have felt incredible to be normal and to fit in somewhere again. The totally messed up world yanking away comfort was a common occurrence in Winchester world. Whenever you felt secure or a moment's happiness, your girlfriend died, your Dad sells his soul, your girlfriends a werewolf, your living in a Jinn dream world or you find the human monster is far scarier than the warped dead ones.

The kicker for Dean was that he was relieved. He didn't have to face losing Sam, even though he had reconciled himself to let that happen. He sucked in a calming breath, letting the pit in his stomach settle. There was no need to get worked up with what ifs now. As the first frame cracked under the blade's pressure, Dean finally cracked the silence too. "Yahtzee!"

Sam startled from the vocal disturbance and did a double take to the bed where Dean sat cross-legged. "Oh...um...sorry...what?"

"Got one open...and looky here…" Hard as he tried, Dean's voice still sounded condescending. "we got more hidden stuff..." He tossed the empty frame aside, making two piles of evidence and artwork. "Go back to what you are doing.. I got one more to go." Even though, Sam's quiet was far from what he really wanted.

"Why don't you just break the glass in the Dean- fly by the seat of my pants-fashion?"

"So, we can return them once it's all over." His brother twisted and removed the second framed work from the floor, exposing the dried blood stain on his shirt.

A small gasp shook loose from Sam. "Damn…..I….your injury….Sorry... I zoned out for a bit."

"You just need some sleep...you'll be okay." Dean made up the excuse for his brother, cutting Sam some slack.

"I need to look at that."

"What?"

"Your shoulder...I..."

"It's fine..had worse...can't think of them at the moment...but I know I have..."

The reminder of Dean being injured revived Sam into action, almost feeling like a neglectful parent. His first duty was to his brother and he let himself get too wrapped up in this world again. The blackhole of stress was always upon Sam, juggling his past with the fear of Dean's deal and losing. It was nice to have something ordered in his life. It was nice to pretend, but for once in his life, he knew where he belonged. Uprooting himself from the well worn recliner, he gathered their medical kit for the second time. Promptly, he sat behind his brother on the bed and opened the supplies.

"Okay, Sammy, this is a bit to much…uh…like Barbie's slumber party- let's braid our hair for me." Acknowledging Sam's pretense with some humor, Dean hoped to lighten his brother's mood.

"Shut up...don't argue with me."

"I.."

"I said shut up...I need to redo those stiches."

Giving up, Dean yanked the shirt over his head, letting Sam assess the reinjured shoulder. "Happy, nurse Hatchett."

A deadpan voice returned Dean's snark. "Extremely." In short order the usual kindness was evident in Sam's voice. "You're just lucky the shallowest part busted.

"Nah.. It's nothing..."

Scoffing, Sam was more than aware this was yet another of Dean's game faces. Often he found himself drawing strength from the wall his brother projected, even though he knew it was a Dean's wall of protection. If his brother could hold it together and be strong, he knew he was more than capable of doing the same. This was one of the driving factors of Sam trying to hold his disappointment in Martin's history. He would never leave his family again, but it felt good to at least pretend he was a part of this normal world. Now, the normal was just as fake as the pretenses his brother clings to for protection. Only these so call normal facades were cold, ugly, twisted, and evil. He couldn't help to feel betrayed as the hope he had for the world being just and good was yet again dashed. "Just hold still...you want something for the pain.. I could..."

"Nah.. It's not bad now." He flinched as Sam's hand touched the renewed raw flesh.

"Don't blame me if this hurts." Sam gently cut away the stitches that had ripped, preparing the area for repair. Slowly, he started to stitch the wound again, allowing for time in between so his brother could flinch and wince when the needle pierced a tender area. Still, Dean kept trying to crack open the last of the Justice paintings without complaining of pain.

Sam smiled, wishing he could be as strong as his brother. This entire hunt had been a pain in the ass from the beginning. Usually, Dean would have made some smart comment, drawing attention to the obvious suckiness of the situation. The fact that Dean had been so uncharacteristically supportive had caused Sam to miss how much aggravation and isolation his brother had been experiencing. Several days had passed before he realized that Ron was giving Dean a hard time. He should have seen it, but he was loving the law moment. Then add Sue's flip-flop flirt, the vapid voicemails of Dean's boss, Dean's head getting slammed by Ron, the sheriff arresting Dean, and the spirit attacking Dean. That was more than enough to make Dean a member of the colossally universally screwed club.

Sam could forgive himself for the actions of others, but not the distance he had recently let linger between his brother and he. The day the creature attacked him, he realized he had hurt Dean, even if it was unintentional. He just wished his stubborn- I can handle anything- brother had opened his mouth.

Suddenly, Sam realized he was internally bitching and praising Dean's ability to hold it all in. Sam wondered if it was possible to admire the same characteristic as a fault and a virtue because he was doing a fairly good job of it in his head. A small chuckle slipped out disturbing the quiet again.

"What?"

"Nothing...just………..nevermind." It was Sam's turn to be strong and let go of the past of what could have been. What mattered was now and the good the Winchesters could do as a family. He sighed and finished the last stitch. "That's should do it. The things I have to do for you..." Sam stood, collecting the used supplies and items to the trash or the kit.

"Yeah...yeah...yeah.." Abandoning his quest to break the frame and pulling his bloodstained shirt back on, Dean bantered playfully. "Don't know what I would do without someone to be a pain."

After stowing the medical supplies, Sam rejoined Dean, ready to discover how bad Martin really was by assessing the hidden evidence. Flopping on the adjacent bed and watching as Dean took great pains to salvage something to spare another person suffering, it was then realization hit Sam hard like a meteor slamming inside him. An awakening dawned on him as to why Dean didn't complain about any of this for the longest time- his brother had been trying to let him be normal and live a good life. He wondered how for all the smarts he was supposed to possess, how that logical brain of his left him so oblivious to his brother's intentions until this moment. All of the aggravation Dean had experienced lately was more than enough to wear his brother out to a walking shadow.

But, that was classical Dean. Somehow, his older sibling had always made sure things were as good as they could be on the road. One of the best moments of his life was the day he discovered Dean respected him and was proud of his little brother for standing up for himself and going after what he wanted. Later he wished he had returned the compliment and wished he said that he respected Dean for his loyalty and holding onto the family. He guessed now was just as good as time as then.

"Hey, Dean..."

"Yeah.."

"I wanted to tell you..."

"BINGO!" The corner of the frame snapped and Dean pulled the last artwork and evidence out onto his lap. "Sam, look at this..."

"Dean...I need to tell yo…."

"Jan had collected some stuff that seems to connect Martin to other deaths..." A slight whistle marched on as Dean assessed the evidence. "This woman... she was freaking smart...look at this…she tracked this man like a pro…..We got an internet article about a death in Alberque last year. She made notes that Martin was on a business trip at that same time…..there was a blonde...murdered and missing body parts…ugh…A short time after that, a conference in Toledo...uh...there was a girl…raped, murdered...uh…beheaded. She spent some serious man-hours on this….. Why would she be so interested in …"

"Martin is interested in Sue…maybe she found something out and wanted to protect her sister. From what Sue describes, she and Jan were close. She hid the evidence for a reason."

"Sue said Jan made the paintings especially for her…"

"The only murders in this county on file have all happened at the courthouse, no missing girls……..how did she make the connection? What was she..."

"Who knows. Who cares. All I know is that spirit is reaping some serious vengeance in the form of an image that she had some passion for…Come on Sam…she is killing the guilty in a way that she died..Someone guilty of some horrendous stuff did something… I don't even want to imagine…. if this is true..and if she took this much caution to hide her suspisiouns, she was afraid."

"That much violent and fear…but even as detailed, she didn't have enough…but she knew something…"

"Yeah… I would say she was in the wrong place, wrong time, wrong person, and knew the wrong thing…He took advantage of the situation and used it to get….uhh…..and we have to find what he does with the…uh…missing…uh..I can't believe I am even saying this one…body parts..heads.. "

"Or we can't stop her."

"…And I can't even believe I thought of this…he must be keeping them..umm.. as some… sick twisted homicidal sicko momento.

"I've been to his house when we prepared for the case….Practically every inch… not likely I missed a few severed heads."

"Sam…" Dean looked disgusted at the newest thought forming in his mind. "..in all the time I cleaned that courthouse and offices..there were only a few I haven't been in.."

"I know, so it has to be somewhere..

"I never cleaned Sue's…"

"I think that was because she was afraid to be in a closed room with you… she had a…uh…control issue with you around."

"Nicely said, Sammy…but….Martin was always telling me to leave his office be…he liked it messy…hmmm…door was always locked…."

"Huh…" Sam scoffed.

"What?'

"During the prep for the case…we always met at Martin's house…never once met in his office."

"Sounds a little iffy to me."

"You don't think he would keep…uh…things there."

"Can't hurt to look. If that fails, I say we confront his deviant ass and make him confess."

-x-x-x-x-xx-x-x-xx-x-x-xx-xx—x-xx-x

**Inside Martin's public defender's office on the 3****rd**** floor of the Shaftner courthouse****- late night**

Tumblers aligned, twisting into place as Sam applied pressure. The door clicked open with almost undetectable expert skill.

"You get better and better at that…Here."

"What!"

"Do you ever notice we say what a lot…?"

"Dean?"

"Oh…uh…take this." Dean outstretch hand forced a rolled painting into Sam arm.

"This is ridiculous…"

"HUMOR ME." Shoving his own rolled tube inside his jacket, He started at Sam until he knew his brother would crack and give into his command.

"Alright…alright..pffff…happy now?" Sam stuffed the tube in his jacket pocket.

The corner of Dean's lip rolled into a devious smile as he opened his snark filled mouth with a deadpan response. "Extremely."

The taunting didn't go unnoticed. Sam cocked his head and nodded in disbelief. "Just get in there."

As quickly as the playful demeanor came to Dean, the serious hunter demeanor rose just as easily. He pulled his hand gun, one that could damage a human if necessary. If Martin was confronted, Dean wasn't going to leave anything to chance. He glanced up at his brother, ready to ask him to prepare for the spirit side of things. There was no need. Sam detected his brother's intentions and his shorten shotgun had been pulled for a call to action. An honest smile slipped on Dean's lips, thankful the ease had returned to their relationship. Scooting past the taller man, the game face returned and he smirked as he slid past. Sam shifted in mere inches after Dean's heels.

"Whoa, Sammy. This is nice…and this place is huge."

"We got a lot of ground to cover."

Martin's office divided into three portions. The main office was the immaculate image of the law office you see on film- swanky and nothing out of place. "And I see he likes it messy, just like he said." The dripping accusatory sarcasm oozed over Dean's words.

"Yeah…you take the room off to the right and I'll take the one on the left, then we both can search the main office together…"

"Okay.."

"Uh..Dean.."

"Yeah?" He was already walking off to the room he was to search.

"Be careful…don't take on anyone or anything alone."

"Yeah…yeah…" Not even turning, Dean's ring glistened with reflected light as he waved off Sam's warning command and entering the smaller room to the right. Finding himself in a conference room, Dean presumed this was set up for client conferences, but gathering from the room's condition, it was not used much. A fine dusting covered the furniture, only occasionally disturbed by a few finger prints-large man sized finger prints. He was careful to not destroy the prints, wishing to leave no trace of his search.

The room was sparse except for small conference table, a few cupboards, an unused coffee maker, and a large refrigerator. The things that would come in handy during a late night cram for a case. Carefully, Dean opened the cupboards to find them bare. With each drawer he opened, he prepared himself for the gruesome sight of human remains. Still his stomach flopped each time. He couldn't help but be relieved that he didn't have to see yet another macabre dead thing, but still disappointed to not be moving close to ending this hunt.

As Dean neared the refrigerator, a ghastly thought rumbled in this throat and stomach. He jerked open the door, expecting to see something at least cadaverous. The door opened quickly and the light inside glowed to life, revealing only a thing of mustard, some kidney beans, and a couple sodas. He chuckled at himself, surmising maybe he did watch to many late night horror flicks. Unthinkingly, he opened the top freezer compartment, only to find several sets of human eyes locked in frozen horror staring back at him. "Crap" Surprise to find several grisly severed heads in the freezer, he whirled around to yell for Sam and left the door a jar.

"What are you doing in here?" The familiar voice called out to him as he turned.

Try as he could, he couldn't think of a quick response. "Uh...Sue…hey…how are you? Uh…Sam and I are…looking for…uh clues…searching everywhere… just wanted to grab a cold drink."

"I saw you sneaking in and I was worried about you."

"Me…phhbbtt… I'm good. Really good. You should go. Just to be on the safe side."

"But you got hurt because of me and you saved me. And if I can help you"

"We'll Sam and I…"

"He told me."

"He did?...oh, yeah he did..I meant…I just."

She crossed closer to him and before Dean could stammer or think of an excuse to get her out of his way, she had locked onto his lips. He fumbled to get the still cracked freezer door to close, thinking for sure at least one of those dismembered craniums must be Sue's sister. She rocked his rear against the fridge door and the appliance shook. Not that Dean minded getting friendly with her, but this chic had the worst timing of anyone. She rocked him again and he tried to use her momentum to spin her around to have her back against the frig, so he could go close the upper door. The move did little good as she slammed him harder, increasing her desire for him. The open door swung wider with the jolt, sending a carefully wrapped frozen head to topple out between both of their legs.


	16. Who does that?

-x-xx-xx-xx-xx

Petrified eyes froze agape, seeming to fasten upon the couple towering above her. However, vision had long been stolen by a sicko fiend with plans to forever lock his morbid mementos like a private, frozen art collection. Only this art collection's ideas of busts were far from carved in stone.

Dean found it difficult to look away, transfixed by the butchery, thawing slowly at his feet. The taste of bile rose again, tainting his throat. He glanced at the living woman in his arms, wondering how this might affect her and hoping that her sister's head was still hidden in the freezer compartment. The morbidity of that thought made him fake a sympatric smile, which failed entirely. His face warped to an expression of a weak smile, if you were whiffing an open sewer and eating a sour pickle. Although valiant, this good-hearted attempt at keeping Sue together fell short of Dean's intentions. The mixed expression fell of his face in short order.

The woman, who so eagerly pursued him seconds ago, stamped her feet like bad, overacting movie stars running around in Plan Nine from Outer Space. Full blown hysteria scrambled within her, mirroring in her outer appendages that flew wildly. Desperately, Dean tried to hold onto her; to calm her, but he would have had better luck taming a hurricane. He was sure the level of her screaming should be reserved for sonar, as she went in full-fledged meltdown.

During her tantrum, she, inadvertently, bumped the detached head, causing it to roll back and touch her foot. Her gaze glanced and darted down, just for a brief second, before she hyperventilated and passed out in Dean's arms.

His lips hissed in surprise as he saw her body limp. Thankfully, she only slipped down a few inches before he pulled her sagging body against him. "This is just perfect." Instinctively, he glanced around to find a place to lay her down, finding only the table. "THIS IS SO PERFECT! SAMMMMMMMMMMY!

"DEAN!!!!!" Sam yelled distantly from another room. Sam sound a bit startled from his brother's yell.

"Oh... man, I really hope that isn't her sister..." He said to himself and quietly hoped it wasn't once again for safe measure. He didn't relish the idea of telling Sue that he was about to torch her sister's head. "SAM! Get your ass in here!"

"I'm coming," he said much closer and much quieter.

"Hurry up, I got my hands full in here and I found you a date too." Dean chuckled, still supporting the unconscious woman. He bent down, swinging his free arm under Sue's legs. "Darling... you have the worst timing of any woman I have ever kissed."

A few seconds later, the familiar frame of his brother slipped into the conference room door. Sam's large hands were laced together and on top of his head. "Uh...Dean."

"Oh crap!" He didn't need Sam to say anything further. He froze in placing, pulling Sue close to him as if he could shield her.

Sam shuffled in slowly with the barrel of a gun pressed in his back and man guiding him further in the room. "Hey, Dean...you've met Martin."

"Not officially, but I've seen his handy work." A sense of bitterness and grandstanding shaded Dean's words. He glanced at his feet, alerting Sam of his discovery. "

"So I see…And I hoped it was all not true." Sam swallowed his own repulsion.

"Sam. I'm sorry to have to do this...I knew you were good, but not this good. I don't know how you found out about all of this, but all I need to know is who you have told. "

"We've told everyone." Dean spouted cockily as Sam gave him an almost disapproving eye. "Hell, I even called Jerry Springer."

"I thought Sam had better taste than to associate with the likes of you, but guess if you save a man's life he is indebted to you. Now, move over to next to him!"

Sam stood still until Martin pushed upon the small of his back with the hard gun barrel. Two measly steps from Martin, Sam turned slowly. Standing close to his brother's side, he could look at Dean and Martin and wait for an opportunity. His large feet shuffled a single step backwards "Okay, just...take it easy. Martin you can't do this. It's too late. We found evidence Jan left behind... it was more than enough to lead us straight to you. Give it up."

"She was too close…. I had to…"

"OH, COME ON! You're a freak and you just took a convenient opportunity. If it wasn't her, it would be someone else."

"DEAN!" Sam hollered. "It's not wise to smart off the man with a gun."

"He's going to shoot us anyway!" Suddenly, one of the most vulgar and unappealing thoughts sprang inside of Dean's mind, causing him to glance at Sam in sheer detestation.

Sam looked confused for about five seconds until Dean arched his eyebrows. For a moment he wondered if Dean was going to hurl. But, as if his brother's thoughts could be channeled, Sam seemed to read the intention. The same abhorrent distraction filled inside his mind. Instinct made him shake his head no.

"You should learn to watch that smartass mouth," Martin oozed.

Dean arched his eyebrows at Sam telling him it was the only option he had. Careful to keep Martin off guard, hean pushed all the buttons he could. "Well, that makes two places I have brains that you don't!"

The only response Sam could give was revulsion. A grimace spread over his face and an upturn lip told his brother to do what he had to do.

"Dean!... Please… please….just be quiet for a minute." The tender Sam reached out in a gentle voice. "Please...Martin! I worked alongside of you…. You became a lawyer to help people."

"Sam ARE you that naive? You become a lawyer to win. You become a lawyer to be a success and have money. If you want to help people you become a saint."

"Seriously, SHUT UP ALREADY! Why does every bad person feel the need to describe what they are going to do before they do it...Who does that anyway!? It's like a really bad episode or Reno 911. For pity sake just shoot already..."

Cocking the trigger, Martin glanced angrily at Dean's flashing defiant eyes.

"No! Leave my brother alone, Martin!" Sam yelled. The gunman whirled his attention to Sam, giving Dean enough time and enough of a distraction to do possibly something he was going to dread forever.

Balancing Sue in his arms, he pulled back his leg and punted the head at his feet like a field kicker in the NFL. Dean flinched as the weird squish upon his boot. The sheer forced lifted the world most macabre projectile towards the intended target.

Spiraling in a weird grace, the head smacked into Martin's knees. His attention diverted by the impact, he jolted and looked away for a few seconds.

Jungle cats would hold Sam's swiftness with envy as he delivered a combination of dance like blows. His elbow cracked down on the gun hand as his other slammed into Martin's skull. The weapon flew on the floor and their potential attacker hunched over. In a meager flash, Sam had balled his hands together, sending the locked knuckles to Martin's face.

The man arched back and his arms spun as he tried to grab air to stable himself and his consciousness. It was useless; his body slammed against the floor and settled into the darkness that Sam had delivered to him.

"HELL YEAH! Nice one Sam!"

"Dude, that was sick…tell me that's not…"

"I hope not… I so don't want to tell her I kicked your sister's head." Dean took a few steps to unburden his load.

Sam stole a glance, noticing the streak of flaming red hair. "I don't think this one is her…Jan's a blonde." He looked back to his brother. "And at least we have Martin!"

Dean froze on alert, staring off with Sue in his arms. "Sam! SALT GUN NOW!"

Whirling Sam fired before he aimed or saw his target, the ghostly Justice returning for a third battle.


	17. Best Ending EVER!

-x-xx-x-xx-x-xx-x-x

The blast resounded like peals of thunder as small ball of fire exploded from the end of Sam's shot gun. The projectile spiraled askew from the sharp angle, advancing obliquely towards the spirit. A few seconds the minuscule salt cinders sprinkled and clouded the air, leaving a misty residue where the spectre had just occupied.

"Dammit, she is persistent."

"So much for the paintings as protection theory."

"Did you have any better ideas…there, Sammy boy?!" Dean would have smirked, but he was actively scouring the room for the possibility of another attack. Already feeling handicapped in the battle from having Sue cradled in his arm, Dean was less than enthusiastic with facing such a power spirit presence again.

"Yeah…"

"Yeah… yeah…what!" The words, a bit sardonic in tone, slipped out playfully.

'Uh.. Yeah...no ideas. .uh…not really…."

"Okay, look out for it… I need to get Sue out of the way. We only have a limited amount of rounds before we have to reload. And you aren't going to be able to handle her by yourself. We only have four shots between us at any given time…"

"Three at the moment. Actually just one until you get free of Sue…..And this spirit keeps coming back... too damn quickly. And we won't have this momentary reprieve for much longer."

"Yeah and I want to have every advantage... just long enough to do the deed and get out of here." Dean took a small step towards the table, using his trained instincts to scan the room for any movement. A sniper could not have made as clean and stealth movements as Dean displayed. Each step became a carefully choreographed movement, always surveying for a change to his environment, yet secure in knowing Sam had him covered.

Quiescently, silence hung in the room in perfect union with the vapid, malodorous air. A small bead of sweat poured down upon Dean's chiseled brow, not for worry, but from the sheer anticipation of attack. A pounding pain built inside his back muscles, seeping and calling out a warning to him. The sensation twitched as a constant reminder of what this foe could do in the heat of battle. Yet, the misery in his sinewy muscles stemmed from the alertness of his spine. The small bones stood to attention in a neat stack, which always occurred each time he prepared or waged battle. His stance and body language morphed to a dominating, involuntary, almost Pavlovian, response. His carriage morphed to a striking contradiction to his normal- slightly bowlegged and easy going- posture.

Similarity, Sam stood somewhat more erect, only adding to his already impressive height. However, the changes to him occurred more subtly. The hazel in his eyes took on a darker hue as the pupils took over in a sharper focus, letting in all movement to his keen gaze. Lately, those eyes had taken on a harder, more determined edge. That edge made Sam feel more powerful-more in control. Today, that harshness was gone, replaced by his mindful watch of Dean.

In a strange way, the years of military training under John's tutelage, so apparent after all these years, took over in each battle. Each affected in a different way, but allowing the Winchester boys to react on pure instinct in the oddest of circumstances. Oddity, the occult, and unnatural seemed to always been constant partners of the Winchesters. Today was no exception. Fate dealt them a handful of many obstacles in a short matter of hours.

Dean would have loved time to muse about the absurdity of all things acclimating in one fell swoop, but he was more concerned about a fell swoop of a certain ghostly sword from a powerful spirit. "Sam...you see her?"

"No..just be careful. She likes you more than me."

"I'm charming and charismatic. Just born lucky that way."

"Dean, I'm serious. Be careful. Please."

"Like always." Some condescending tones flavored his response.

Finally, the considered steps allowed Dean to free himself of the burden of Sue. Easing her gentle upon the dust-covered surface, his face flashed the gentleness not expected in a warrior. This spirit killing would not be without regrets. Being with Sam all this time had accomplished one thing, he knew nothing was ever simple or black and white. Some pain and evil caused good people to turn ugly, in life and in death. Sometimes in made him ill to send a former good person to their end, even when the spirit became so far warped from its original self.

"Okay… easy now…we don't want to hurt your sister." Dean rationalized. "Just let me get her safe…you know you want her safe."

"Where is she, Dean. Why hasn't she come back?"

"Don't know… Don't care… Let's just grab the head and get this over with."

"Why is it we are always finding stranger and stranger things to say in these hunts? Well, we know the head between your legs wasn't it."

"I am not even commenting on that last line!"

"Uhh.. yeah.. sorry."

Dean walked backwards slowly, still sweeping the small room for any signs of danger. "And as freaky as it is to fight this ghost- not seeing her is a bit more disturbing."

"DEAN!"

Sam didn't need to yell, Dean saw her reappear. "Yeah, I got her..Hey Sweetheart. Listen, I know we got off on a bad foot, but we got the jerk that killed you... just let us salt and burn your…UGGHH …damn I hate thinking about doing this…and you can leave us all alone… Sam, get her head." He didn't have time enough, yet, to pull the weapon in the small of his back.

"Dean, I have her in my aim, you're getting the head."

"Wuss!" Dean backed further towards the freezer and with a few steps he would have to sift through Martin's frozen aisle trophy section.

The spirit hovered as is she was waiting for them to move. The occasional odd flicker and sharp jutting movement made her, and her weapon, look all the more deadly. Her gazed narrowed and scissored in on Sam., the shining green overtaking most of her eye.

Sam shuddered at the hallow stare, his body appreciating the creepiness of the sight before him. A health respect of the unknown had kept him alive and sharp these years. Knowing this spirit had injured his brother did little to easy his mind. Yet, his arm never wavered its aim, waiting for any sign the otherworldly predator would strike. However prepared, he was not ready when the creature lunged her first attack. Sam's focus was strictly on Dean. So when the creature barreled the opposite way, it took him a few seconds to fire and register why the spirit delayed an attack.

"She's not after us!" He screamed. "She wants Martin."

Dean fired, sending his rock salt protection into the creature as he simultaneously bolted towards the fallen killer. "DAMN IT! Sam, cover him."

"What about you!?" Sam whirled around to reassure Dean's safety, running into the metal trash can and half stumbling to his knees.

"Smooth… just watch over him, I got this."

Dean didn't wait for Sam's agreement, but threw his own caution aside, bolting open the freezer door. He had just started inspecting the freezer's contents when a whoosh of air struck near him. He felt a surge of cold upon the air near him that warned him of danger a split second before the powerful sword struck into the over head freezer. Thankfully, he ducked and dodged the blow.

As the sharp saber missed, the spirit lashed out with her free mighty hand to deliver a blow to Dean's head. The blow knocked Dean against the steel of the frig door. His head hit and dented the steel with a crack. The appliance rocked spilling abhorrent contents like lumps of hail.

Dean reached for his gun as the creature bellowed, casually getting ready to deliver a final blow to him. Dean knew when it came to brute strength; he was not a match for this spirit. Before he had time to move, a shower or rock salt drizzled down upon his head. The air left his lungs in a swoosh, but he eeeked out thanks. "Thanks."

"I think she knows we are protecting him and going after her."

"We need him alive." Dean gasped, a bit cold from the recent spirit content. "If he bites it, who are they going to get for these murders!"

"I NEED you alive. Watch for her, I need to reload!"

The need to ask was moot, Dean had already up righted himself and watched mindfully. In mere seconds, he fired two feet from Sam, giving his brother his own salt shower.

"Thanks." Sam re-cocked the salt gun.

Dean whirled around. "Dammit! I can't tell if she is here!"

"Any blondes!"

"I can't tell… their.. frozen…eeeehhh." Dean was on his knees, scrambling to identify if Jan's missing pieces were here. Part of him hoped she was and part of him hoped he didn't have to see any more of this gruesomeness. He was thankful that he had been spared the pungent smell of death at least. Scrambling under the table legs, still on his knees, he noticed the hint of blonde just under the edge.

"Dean?'

"I think this is her." He tucked the plastic wrapped item under his arm and ran towards Sam, noticing the metal trash can, the earlier device of Sam graceful half dive.

He half swooshed the heads in a basket and patted grabbed into his jacket pocket for lighter fluid, salt, and his lighter. He heard Sam fire before he felt a new snow of salt pelting above his head. The second round rapidly followed.

Dean whirled around flat on his back to return the favor to Sam, who was actively reloading. Admonishing himself, he noted they needed a way to get multiple salt loads more than ever, but just as quickly he reminded himself one good shot kept most spirits at bay. This case was anything but normal. No other thoughts were allowed to form as the ghost returned for a new attack, materializing right above Dean.

He fired his weapon and rolled just as the spectre used its supernatural powers to fling him against the sink. The salt round exploded, missing its mark. The creature moved towards Dean, who had just rolled to his side; the pain in his back sparked anew. Raising the weapon, high above Dean, the spirit began to slash downward. He jolted, but heard the thankful, relieved sound of Sam's gun firing. The spirit's blow landed cleanly between Dean's eagle-wide legs, missing him entirely before the salt repelled her away.

Sam dove for the basketed cranium, jutting into his own pockets to continue Dean's mission. The liquid from the small container coated the trash can. As he worked frantically, Dean was busy with his own problem.

Sam whirled again and fired as the spirit hovered just above his right ear. Now, more than ever they had to act quickly. Both guns were empty. Sam had to trust Dean would reload and cover him as he took care of the final salt and burn of Jan-the justice spectre- who had taken lives of countless people.

The return of the spirit was quicker than ever and targeting Dean once more. He rolled missing the first blow, but not without a price. His one hand tried to reload as he kept his focus on avoiding her stabs. The second blow landed clean and brushed his upper thigh. It was only good fortune that the slice was offset by his own movement, allowing only a thin sliver of intrusion upon his flesh. He winched and groaned, seeing Sam glance and whirl to verify his predicament.

Sam sprinkled the salt frantically and squeezed the pungent lighter fluid in the metallic trashcan. As he attempted to flick the lighter to life, the flint refused to ignite. Finally, the flame sparked, giving Sam the fire to set his mission to life. The small tin ignited ablaze.

The spirit grew angrier and plunged the sword towards Dean's torso in determination to claim a final victim. Dean's arm flew up in defense and he fired his reloaded gun in the same movement. The phantom sword, already stained with his blood more than once, fell to impact upon him. The spance between his flesh and the blade flew by swiftly, only ending a centimeter above his abdomen.

Sam's handiwork stopped the creature, locking the twisted soul in a hot freeze. As the image above his brother flickered like a burning paper left near an open raging inferno, Sam should have been relieved with a job finally complete. Instead he grew alarmed. Dean had stopped all movement.

Sam slid across the room, the ghost image still burning away and fading just above him and Dean. The spirit, powerless to strike, drew none of his concern. Rather, he was about to officially coddle, if not cuddle, his brother to him. Had it not been for Dean opening his palm to tell Sam to stop, he would have scooped his brother up without a hesitation or forethought.

"Dean!?"

Again, Dean responded with an open palm, telling Sam to give him a minute. Sucking in a cold breath, he looked up hopefully at Sam, as much as stopping him as he was reassuring his brother he was okay. The pain would pass. The bright flickers of the spirits final repose glistened on the wetness of his face. Sweat came from extreme exertion of battle and the involuntary response to pain. His hand held a slight tremor, allowing his body to push away the agony.

The last of the ghost glistened away, not that Sam would have noticed. "Did the stitches…?"

"No…" Dean gave his brother no time to question or finish any line of questioning. He hated to appear weak in general, this was downright degrading. "Don't think so… just hurts like a mother!"

"Dean?...let.."

"Sammy…" A steely cool calmness hung upon his words. "I think we have to spare Sue a mental breakdown by getting the..." He motioned behind him at the still now smoking metal trash can."

"I can take care of that.. Just tell me if you are..."

"I'm fine…. Completely fine… Now, move your ass! We got cops to call, a head to get rid of, and then we can get the hell out of this town. And as soon as we are out of this county, I am finding a fifth of whiskey. That will kill or cure anything."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle. "The Dean Winchester Cure all!"

-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hours later……

A crowd of onlookers had gathered, gawking at the flashing lights and the morbid reveal of Martin's handiwork in the wee hours of the still waking morning. The blinking flashes were brighter and more colorful than fireworks on the 4th of July. A hodgepodge of personnel littered the courthouse halls in a confusing circus.

Dean nodded his head across the hall at the upright Sue, who actively was talking to the police. Sam and he had carefully disposed of her sister's remains before Sue could find more horror of losing her sister. He winked an appreciate goodbye, acknowledging it could have been fun if they ever found an appropriate time. Returning his sentiment, she added a quiet thank you, still seeing him as some kind of savior. He was just glad she followed his directions with the police questioning.

"Yes, that's right. Sam and I were going to grab a bite to eat, when we ran into Mr. Newstead. Sam felt obliged to invite him along as a thank you for saving him earlier this …." She sighed. "We saw the lights on and thought someone was up to something. That's when…." She stopped, trying to maintain her composure. "Martin was here… he had a gun…and these men protected me… He might have…" She felt faint and the officer kept her from wavering on his feet.

Dean nodded goodbye one last time and walked towards his awaiting, almost pensive brother.

"Dean, you think she is going to be okay?"

"For someone who acts like a hard ass, she is too soft hearted to see this violence. But, she knows who killed her sister. I just hope that is enough."

"I hope she turns out okay. I can't believe half the things we have seen in OUR work!"

Smirking and raising an eyebrow, Dean strutted down the hall, not waiting for Sam to continue. Inches from his heels, Sam stepped into place. It wasn't often Dean felt touched or moved in his existence, but he knew his brother had chosen the words "our work" carefully. Strangely, he didn't need the reassurance anymore.

"Dean? Is everything..uh..."

"What?" He asked innocently and abruptly, stopping his stride.

Sam stumbled slightly to not step on his brother's heels.

Giving himself a moment to enjoy teasing his brother, Dean turned stone faced, holding back his amusement.

"I mean..I know you were… I'm just glad this ended well. I think this is the best ending we could hope for. The only regret..."

"You know what… this ending sucks. Things just aren't right! And nothing you can say can make this ending okay for me…" Dean said bitterly.

"DEAN! You know I…"

The open hand jutted in Sam's face, telling him once again to shut up. With that, he took off again, only faster, down the hall as if on a mission.

"Dean come on... I'm sorry… just..." Sam scampered after his brother. All he could think about was he had hurt Dean and it was far worse than he thought. He begged the universe to help him set this one small thing right today. He was about to pray, but he noticed Dean making a beeline for the restroom. "Dean…what are you???"

He followed regardless of his confusion, pushing the door open mere seconds behind his brother.

The stark coldness of the restroom was a sharp contract to the colorful annoying character that occupied the space. Within a nanosecond, Sam figured out Dean's intention. However, it was too late to stop his brother. He wasn't sure he wanted to stop him, just this once.

The ever mouth-running, prejudicial bane of Dean's existence jabbered per the usual. "Can you believe it, MARTIN….MARTIN!!!? He killed all those people." Martin gossiped on his cell phone, the permanent attachment to his ear. "Can you…" He halted, noticing the smirking face before him. "WHAT DO YOU WANT CRETIN!"

Dean loved that he was right. He knew just were to find Ron. With a simple tip of his head and a self righteous smirk on his face, Dean flew a punch hard and fast- straight at Ron's nose. The punch was so quick, the man had snapped back, fell backwards, and landed on the floor before the punch recoiled. Meanwhile, Dean scooped up the dropped phone and grinned. "RON SAYS GOODBYE!"

Turning, he kicked open the stall, threw the phone in the toilet and flushed twice for good measure. A downright twisted, demented, and overzealous happiness spread onto his lips and journeyed inside of him like a warming light. As the small object sucked down the tube of no return, he screamed. "Tell Pennywise hello for me!" Abruptly, he turned to Sam. "That's a happy ending, Sammy. "

"I'd say that is the best ending ever." A chuckle slipped in relief.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Ron screamed, trying to push himself off the floor.

"Jackass!" The reference screamed from both Winchester's minds.

Sam whirled, landing his own punch to Ron. The egotistical man fell once again to the cold porcelain tile. "Don't ever talk to my brother like that. He's a better man than you ever hope to BE! Don't you ever talk like to him like that or about him like that…." He shouted at Ron.

Finally, he slowly returned his focus to Dean and grew quieter and more focused. "..Not ever." He left Dean to ponder his words, turning and exiting the small space.

A thoughtful, amused expression held Dean in his place. The childlike tone of his voice was almost soothing. "Best ending ever, Sammy. Best damn ending ever." A satisfied smile flashed over him, touched and happy.

-x-x-x-x-x-------THE END------x-x-x-x-x-x-

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for sticking with me and for the reviews. I appreciate anyone who read this little bit of twisted fun in my head (all out of Supernatural & Winchester Love and Appreciate). Thanks again! huggles


End file.
